ADVENTURES 


I  N 


California  aito  'flitaragua 


I  TV     R  HE  Y  M"  E 


A   TRUTHFUL    EPIC: 
B  V 

A  M  IT  E  L     F .     W  I  G  II  T 


B  R  'A')fj>x 

OF  THE 

:^S!TY   : 
J 

'  "^'4^L2^ii^:^ 

BOSTON: 

PRINTED  r,V  ALFRED  MUDGE   &  SON,  34  SCHOOL  STREET 

I860. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1860,  by  SAMUEL  F.  WIGHT, 
the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


PREFACE. 


Foil  the  publication  of  the  present  volume,  no  apology  is  deemed 
needful,  for  the  reasons  that  the  press  is  free,  and  book-reading  is 
not  eompulsory.  The  author  is  not  proud  of  his  achievement,  nor, 
on  the  other  hand,  does  he  feel  any  considerable  degree  of  humility 
in  contemplating  it.  The  latter  fact  probably  arises  from  a 
deficiency  of  judgment. 

Of  the  literary  merit  of  the  work,  the  writer  would  say  but  lit 
tle,  trusting  that  the  reader  will  readily  concede  to  the  propriety 
of  so  doing.  Though  written  in  rhyme,  the  book  contains  far 
"more  truth  than  poetry";  otherwise  it  would  carry  but  a  poor 
recommendation  for  veracity. 

Begging  the  pardon  of  honest  readers  for  what  may  appear  to 
be  a  culpable  disregard  of  their  good  opinion,  the  author  would 
earnestly  solicit  the  attention  of  critics,  in  the  reasonable  hope, 
that  a  class  of  beings  who  had  the  acuteness  to  discover  that 
Keats  and  Byron  had  mistaken  their  calling,  will  at  once  pro 
nounce  this  work  to  be  the  culmination  of  poetic  genius.  The 
narrative  is  a  truthful  recital  of  events  in  the  author's  experience. 


134841 


fart 


ADVENTURES 


IN 


CALIFORNIA   AND   NICARAGUA. 


These  rambling  lines  a  truthful  story  tell, 
Of  divers  haps  that  to  the  writer  fell, 
When  from  his  home,  at  eighteen  years  of  age, 
He  wandered  forth  the  war  of  life  to  wage, 
Friendless  and  lone,  beyond  the  swelling  tide 
Whose  waters  wash  Columbia's  western  side. 
For  full  five  years,  on  California's  shore, 
Adventurers  in  search  of  golden  ore 
Had  gathered  fast ;  a  host  from  ev'ry  land, 
From  Lapland's  ice  to  Afric's  burning  sand. 
From  east  and  west,  the  old  world  and  the  new, 
Were  gathered  there,  full  many  a  hardy  crew. 

In  boyish  hope  kind  friends  were  left  behind, 
But  feelings  sad  threw  shadows  o'er  my  mind. 
Bright  childhood's  home  !  't  is  hard  to  say  adieu. 
Sweet  scenes  of  youth !  shall  ever  I  review. 
Thy  meadows  green,  and  hills  oft  wandered  o'er; 
Or  may  they  glad  my  vision  nevermore  ? 


Ah !  soon  may  drift  this  body  by  the  strand ; 
Those  bones  may  bleach  upon  a  foreign  land. 
But,  senseless  Hope  disdained  to  augur  ill, 
And  won  Resolve  to  pledge  a  stronger  will. 

At  Gotham  town,  to  sail  for  Navy  Bay, 

In  waiting,  then,  the  North  Star  steamer  lay. 

T  was  in  July  of  'fifty  four,  we  sailed, 

'Neath  pennon  broad  that  from  the  mainmast  trailed 

And  deaf 'riing  shouts  that  cheered  us  on  our  way, 

Soon  fainter  grew,  and  distant,  died  away. 

Then  down  New  Jersey's  shore  swift  did  we  glide, 

And  safely  crossed  the  Gulf  Stream's  stormy  tide. 

Then,  sailing  south,  by  Cuba's  lovely  isle, 

The  Windward  Passage  bearing  west  the  while, 

Fiayti  and  Jamaica  to  left  appeared, 

And  southward  through  Caribbean  we  steered. 

Calm  was  the  sea,  beneath  a  cloudless  sky, 

And  for  the  palm,  with  zephyrs  did  it  vie. 

Yet,  on  the  way,  one  incident  occurred, 

That  from  repose  the  calmest  bosom  stirred. 

A  fire  broke  out,  deep  in  the  steamer's  hold, 

And  quick  aloft  the  smoke  in  columns  rolled. 

The  women  shrieked, — strong  men  stood  still  in  fear 

On  ocean  wide, — no  human  help  was  near. 

No  isle  appeared,  our  sinking  hopes  to  raise, 

No  friendly  ship,  to  break  the  ocean  maze. 

But,  Fortune  smiled ;  the  fury  of  the  flame 

Was  soon  compelled  to  yield  its  lawless  claim. 

Nine  days  passed  on,  then  while  the  morn  was  gray, 
We  entered  Aspinwall,  on  Navy  Bay. 


The  railway  cars  were  waiting  on  the  wharf — 
One  "  All  aboard/'  a  puff,  and  we  were  off. 
"  Twelve  dollars,  gents,  or  tickets  for  your  fare," 
An  "hombre"  cried,  with  quite  a  Spanish  air. 
The  heartless  mandate  made  our  purses  weep, 
But,  some  were  short,  so  grief  could  not  be  deep. 

To  our  cold  eyes  a  thousand  scenes  were  new, 

And  wondrous  sights  fast  crowded  into  view. 

Huge  forest  kings  in  stately  splendor  stood, 

That  scarce  had  bowed  since  God  pronounced  them  good. 

Towering  palms  in  noble  beauty  grew, 

'  Mid  vegetation  dense  of  varied  hue, 

Whose  leaves  among,  sweet  tiny  minstrels  sang, 

In  notes  of  joy  that  through  the  forest  rang. 

Parrots,  with  knowing  looks,  were  fain  to  speak, 

And  nimble  apes  were  playing  "  hide  and  seek." 

Twice,  on  that  day,  the  engine  left  its  track, 
And  twice  we  toiled  to  bring  the  truant  back. 
But,  with  the  sun,  Gorgona  passed  from  sight, 
And  out  we  sprang  as  day  dissolved  in  night. 

The  air  was  hot,  and  being  thirsty, — quite, 
In  search  of  springs  we  trod  the  shades  of  night ; 
But  sought  in  vain ;  no  water  there  was  found, 
And  darkness,  thick,  was  falling  fast  around. 
Yet,  spying  soon  a  native  with  a  pail, 
We  loudly  called,  "Bring  us  of  Adam's  Ale." 
"  One  dime  per  glass,"  was  said  in  quick  reply. 
"  What !  pay  for  water  ?  Let  us,  rather,  die." 
But  nature  said,  "  'T  is  money  versus  life, 
So  pay  the  dime,  and  cease  your  useless  strife." 
•2 


10 


From  early  morn  till  twilight's  gentle  fall, 
Scarce  forty  miles  had  passed  from  Aspinwall, 
And  now  ensconced  within  a  forest  deep, 
Damp  earth  a  couch, — we  laid  us  down  to  sleep. 

Nature  reclined  in  her  dewy  repose, 

And  the  murni'ring  sound  of  her  breath  arose. 

The  heavy  air  in  languid  beauty  fell, 

And,  subtle,  crept  through  forest  glade,  and  dell ; 

Where,  casting  down  its  freight  of  pearly  dew, 

Again  it  rose  to  roam  the  forest  through ; 

Singing  its  songs  the  sullen  trees  to  cheer ; 

Waking  the  leaf  by  whispers  in  its  ear. 

Day  rose,  and  from  earth's  mantle  stole  the  dew, 
And  all  prepared,  in  strength  and  vigor  new, 
To  tread  the  path  through  which  our  journey  lay, 
For  eighteen  miles,  a  rugged,  mountain  way. 
"A  mule  !  A  mule  !  "  was  soon  the  only  cry ; 
Yet  some  preferred  to  walk ;  the  reason  why, 
In  simple  truth  is  very  briefly  told : 
Within  their  purses, — light  the  weight  of  gold. 

A  company,  myself  and  other  four, 
Not  cumbered  much  with  surplus  weight  of  ore, 
Now  jointly  hired  a  driver  and  his  beast, 
And  from  our  chattels  quickly  were  released. 
Across  the  mule  we  strapped  a  baggage  car, 
Then  onward  marched  for  Bay  of  Panama. 

Wet  was  the  pass,  and  deep  the  miry  clay ; 
Fierce  from  above,  down  shot  the  solar  ray ; 


11 


Yet,  onward  still,  the  mule  and  driver  went, 
Till  strength  was  gone,  and  respiration  spent. 
In  truth,  it  seemed  the  rascal  native's  aim, 
To  tire  us  out,  that  he  might  steal  the  game. 
Thus,  soon  exhausted,  comrades  lagged  behind, 
By  which  all  care  of  baggage  they  resigned. 

Of  all  our  band,  five  hundred  and  fifteen, 
Scarce  more  than  three  were  ere  together  seen. 
Each  by  himself  was  satisfied  to  go, 
Content  was  each  his  own  affairs  to  know. 

When  scarce  was  half  our  tiresome  journey  o'er, 

In  haste  there  met  us,  twenty-five,  or  more, 

Americans  all,  who,  haggard  and  pale, 

Quick  bade  us  list,  and  told  a  fearful  tale. 

For  New  York  bound,  from  California,  they 

Old  Panama  had  left  at  early  day. 

But  when  the  pass  more  lone  and  darksome  grew, 

The  western  waters  fading  from  their  view, 

A  robber  band  from  thicket  dense  outsprang, 

Highwaymen  bold,  a  fierce  and  bloody  gang. 

"  Your  money,  boys  !     'T  is  not  your  lives  we  ask ; 

Yet,  but  resist,  and  death  shall  be  our  task." 

Some  boldly  turned,  the  cruel  foe  to  fight, 

Relief  some  sought  by  instantaneous  flight. 

But,  truth  to  tell,  and  make  the  story  short, 

One  man  was  killed;  two  runaways  were  caught. 

That  vital  part,  the  pocket,  was  assailed, 

And  hard  earned  gold  the  breath  of  being  bailed. 

We  journeyed  on  with  watchful  eye  ahead, 
And  silent  mused  on  being's  brittle  thread ; 


12 


Yet  might  have  moved  more  cheerfully,  and  bold ; 
For  blood  was  not  the  robbers'  aim,  but  gold. 
They  lurked  not  there,  in  mountain  wilds,  for  fame, 
And  shooting  us,  would  prove  a  bootless  game. 
Full  well  they  knew,  that,  being  outward  bound, 
Within  our  purses,  little  would  be  found. 

Soon  passing  by  the  rugged  mountain  chain, 

Whose  lofty  peaks  descend  a  fertile  plain, 

With  joy  we  saw,  where,  conscious  in  their  pride, 

The  dark  blue  waves  roll  o'er  the  western  tide ; 

And  Panama's  battlements  rose  in  sight, 

Whose  giant  walls  were  once  the  Spaniard's  might. 

On  ev'ry  side,  'mid  fragrant  herbs  and  flow'rs, 
The  lime  trees  crouch,  and  high  the  palm  tree  tow'rs ; 
While  tropic  fruits  in  rich  profusion  grow, 
And  bending  trees  reflect  the  sunlight's  glow. 

Around  the  town  extends  a  fortress  wall, 

Of  ancient  look,  with  portals,  massive,  tall. 

Which  soon  were  passed,  and  looking  down  the  street, 

A  large  hotel  my  vision  chanced  to  greet. 

On  drawing  near,  "  mine  host "  with  features  bland, 

Sent  lackeys  out  to  execute  command ; 

But  while  his  mind  he  thought  a  sealed-up  book, 

Out  from  his  eye,  there  stole  a  knavish  look. 

Yet  from  his  load  the  mule  was  quick  released, 

And  on  their  way  went  driver  and  his  beast. 

As  now  I  sought  accommodations  meet, 

My  comrades  four  came  running  down  the  street. 

"  Our  baggage  where  ?  "  at  once  they  eager  say. 

•'  See  yon  hotel  ?  there  go  without  delay." 


13 


Another  inn  soon  caught  my  wand'ring  eye, 

"  City  Hotel,  "  whose  claims  were  not  passed  by. 

The  weary  hours  dragged  slowly  through  the  night, 
But  daylight  came,  at  last,  and  put  to  flight 
The  offspring  of  a  gloomy,  midnight  hour, 
And  quick  dissolved  imagination's  power. 

The  noontide  came,  yet  vain  did  we  repine ; 
Our  boat  came  not,  till  when  at  day's  decline, 
The  sun  began  his  golden  face  to  lave, 
And  hide  himself  behind  the  western  wave. 
Then,  in  the  bay  the  Uncle  Sam  appeared, 
As  swiftly  to  her  anchorage  she  neared. 
But  now  't  was  learned,  by  some  with  great  dismay, 
That  ere  we  left,  a  dollar  each  must  pay ; 
For  true  it  was,  though  seeming  very  queer : 
Upon  the  strand  was  no  extending  pier. 
So  row-boats  small,  and  oarsmen  we  must  hire, 
Of  wretches,  who,  save  gold,  knew  no  desire. 
We  went  aboard,  but  when  the  list  was  read. 
Thirteen  were  missed,  or,  so  the  purser  said. 
Some  had,  perchance,  been  murdered  on  the  way ; 
One,  sick  in  town,  of  yellow  fever,  lay. 

The  morning  came,  and  found  us  on  our  way, 
As,  bearing  north,  we  left  the  spacious  bay : 
But  angry  clouds  the  sky  had  overcast, 
Which  gathered  thick,  and  soon  were  falling  fast. 
Two  days  and  nights  the  rain  incessant  fell, 
Which  chained  us  low,  like  felons  in  a  cell. 
The  fever,  then,  his  work  of  death  began, 
And  through  the  boat  a  race  malignant  ran. 


14 


So  swift  and  sure  the  sallow  demon's  pace, 
That  while  we  gazed,  each  in  another's  face, 
Some  victims  new  he  instant  marked  his  own, 
By  signs  that  through  their  changing  features  shone. 
Yet,  sailing  north,  the  air  became  more  chill, 
And  old  Disease  himself,  in  turn,  grew  ill. 
But,  ere  his  own,  the  cruel  elf  resigned, 
Four  lives  to  Death,  his  partner,  he  consigned. 

Though  checked  the  boat  whene'er  a  life  had  fled, 

No  prayer  was  made,  no  fun'ral  service  read. 

Each  lifeless  form,  in  canvas  shroud  enrolled, 

Was  quick  consigned  to  ocean's  waters  cold. 

Then  found  it  there,  beneath  the  dark  blue  wave, 

A  resting  place,  a  peaceful,  wat'ry  grave  ? 

Or  did  the  shark,  his  hunger  to  appease, 

Voraciously  upon  each  body  seize  ? 

Ah !  dire  the  thought  that  to  our  minds  appealed, 

And  dread  the  truth  that  soon  itself  revealed ; 

For,  swift  the  sharks  did  greedily  pursue, 

And  dart  around  our  steamer  as  she  flew. 

Like  famished  wolves,  in  greedy  haste  they  moved, 

With  appetites  by  taste  of  food  improved. 

Time  slowly  dragged,  as  on  our  course  we  went, 
Yet  ne'er  would  thought  submit  to  discontent ; 
For,  on  our  right,  the  Rocky  Mountain  chain 
In  beauty  rose,  behind  a  fertile  plain. 
Towering  peaks  with  ever-smiling  face, 
Above  the  clouds,  peered  down  in  lofty  grace, 
While  vapors  dense,  illumed  by  sunlight's  glow, 
Lay  on  their  breasts  like  shining  banks  of  snow. 


15 


Then,  farther  north,  approaching  near  the  coast, 
The  landscape  reared  a  giant,  snow  capped  host. 
Nor  could  the  eye  the  wat'ry  west  disdain ; 
The  beautiful  on  ocean's  broad  domain. 
'T  was  beautiful  to  view  the  fading  light, 
As  lovely  day  sank  in  the  arms  of  night ; 
As  Sol  reclined  in  slumber  on  the  deep, 
And  nature  hid  her  saddened  face  to  weep, — 
In  ruby  light,  the  day's  last  sighs  exhaust, 
His  deep'ning  hues  are  soon  in  darkness  lost. 
The  modest  moon,  made  watcher  of  the  night, 
The  stars  grow  bold,  and  twinkle  with  delight ; 
While  silv'ry  clouds  by  Zephyrus'  breath  are  driv'n 
Like  chariots  bright,  across  the  arch  of  heav'n. 
Morn  comes  again,  and  with  her  new-born  light, 
Winged  fishes  rise,  and  take  their  clumsy  flight. 
Now,  mammoth  whales  in  sable  mantles  shine, 
Or  sperm  whales  gray,  in  sluggish  ease  recline, — 
Such  varied  scenes  relieved  full  many  an  hour, 
And  silence  robbed  of  half  its  dead'ning  pow'r. 

From  Panama,  full  thirteen  days  we  sailed, 
When  El  Dorado's  shore  our  vision  hailed. 
As  evening  came,  we  passed  old  Monterey, 
And  midnight  met  in  San  Francisco  Bay, 
Where,  anchored  safe,  we  passed  the  silent  night, 
And  with  the  morning  viewed  St.  Francis'  height. 

Grand  was  the  scene,  as  wide  our  eyes  were  cast, 
Gigantic  hills,  and  dim  blue  mountains  vast 
In  distance  rose,  while  barren  hills  of  sand, 
Composed,  entire,  the  intervening  land. 
Though  looks  sublime,  all  faded  nature's  dress ; 
Naught  right  or  left,  save  dry  unfruitfulness ; 


16 


No  pleasing  shade,  the  weary  eye  gave  rest; 
No  lovely  spot,  in  vegetation  blest. 
The  grand,  sublime,  lone  ruled  in  proud  despair, 
For  nature,  in  her  beauty,  dwelt  not  there. 

Though  now  from  home,  six  thousand  miles,  or  more, 

With  just  ten  dimes  remaining  of  my  store, 

'T  was  ne'er  in  mind  to  rue  a  hasty  choice, 

And  thought  scarce  spoke  reflection's  sober  voice. 

But,  light  of  heart,  with  pockets  doubtless  lighter, 

The  siren  Hope  said,  things  would  soon  be  brighter. 

On  Davis'  wharf  we  quickly  scrambled  out, 
To  pick  up  gold  like  pebble  stones, — no  doubt. 
But  vain  the  hope,  the  dream  of  golden  weal, 
For  sterner  fact  each  heart  was  soon  to  feel. 

Seventy  cents  was  all  my  money  now  — 
To  "  make  a  raise,"  I  truly  knew  not  how ; 
For  lawyers,  e'en,  though  deep  and  broad  of  head, 
Were  digging  sand  to  earn  their  daily  bread. 
But,  plodding  on,  my  fortune  't  was  to  meet 
A  man  in  search  for  binders  of  his  wheat. 
Employed  were  three,  yet  other  three  he  sought ; 
So  with  him  I  engaged,  with  scarce  the  thought, 
That  binding  wheat  was  anything  but  play, 
For  which  was  promised,  three  dollars  per  day. 
Complying  now  with  poverty's  behest, 
My  better  coat  (two  only  were  possessed) 
Was  quickly  sold  to  a  miserly  Jew, 
For  which,  the  sum  received,  was  dollars  two. 
Then  sailing  o'er  the  waves  ten  miles  away, 
To  San  Antoine,  beyond  the  spreading  Bay, 


17 


The  stage  I  took  (haply  the  fare  was  down) 
To  Evans'  Ranch,  by  San  Lorenzo's  town. 

The  morning  caine ;  all  bravely  took  the  field, 
But  ere  an  hour,  my  strength  began  to  yield  j 
So  from  the  labor  turning  with  dismay, 
The  ranch  I  left  beside  the  noon  of  day. 

Twelve  miles  were  passed,  then  Union  City  came ; 
A  petty  vill,  called  city  by  misname. 
One  flour  mill,  six  dwellings,  and  two  inns, 
Three  gaming  shops,  with  liquor  and  ten-pins. 

Though  shades  of  night  had  gathered  thick  around, 

No  sheltered  nook  for  lodging  place  was  found. 

The  "  houses,"  true,  presented  ample  fare, 

But  money,  then,  was  what  't  were  hard  to  spare. 

Yet  soon,  by  chance,  in  distance  came  to  view, 

A  row  of  pig-pens  thatched  with  wheat  straw  new. 

No  human  form  was  near,  nor  spoke  the  breeze 

In  aught  save  grunts  that  told  of  swinish  ease. 

So,  climbing  up,  I  made  a  dreary  bed, 

By  spreading  sheaves  to  serve  in  blankets  stead. 

Fancy  portrayed  me  l  alone  to  my  glory,' 
But,  soon  came  a  noise  from  the  basement  story. 
Pigs  would  be  pigs,  and  so  they  squealed  and  fought, 
Till,  by  the  morn,  a  flag  of  truce  was  brought. 
It  seemed  as  though,  more  hoggish  than  the  rest, 
One  had  resolved  to  have  full  half  the  nest. 
Misguided  pig !     How  much  like  human  kind, 
To  pamper  self,  and  leave  the  world  behind ! 
3 


18 


Monopoly,  no  creature  will  allow, 
Though  man,  or  brute,  the  finale  is  a  row. 

As  sombre  night  must  always  yield  to  day, 
And  darkness  wane,  dissolved  by  morning's  ray, 
So  there,  at  last,  the  shadows  of  the  night 
In  silence  sped,  before  approaching  light. 
Then  creeping  down,  I  took  a  morning  stroll, 
And  for  a  breakfast,  ate  a  baker's  roll. 
Then,  turning  northward,  left  the  town  behind, 
As  naught  was  there  to  satisfy  my  mind. 

At  San  Lorenzo,  fourteen  miles  away, 
A  stream  I  crossed,  and  met  the  noon  of  day. 
Chanced  also,  there,  a  husbandman  to  meet, 
And  once  again  engaged  for  binding  wheat. 

Thus  spoke  the  man :  "  A  day  and  half  a  day, 
The  closing  of  the  week,  you'll  work  to  pay 
The  cost  of  board  till  Monday's  sun  draws  nigh, 
For  here  in  California,  '  grub '  is  high. 
Two  dollars  fifty  cents,  each  working  day, 
Shall  pay  your  labor  while  you  choose  to  stay." 

When  Monday's  sun  raised  nature's  sable  veil, 
To  work  I  went,  but  strength  began  to  fail. 
Then  two  day's  strife  with  fate  passed  by  in  vain, 
And  work  was  left  for  wandering  again. 
With  morning's  light  I  passed  by  San  Antoine, 
To  Contra  Costa,  best  as  Oakland  known. 
Crossed  then  the  bay,  to  roam  Francisco  o'er, 
Though  fruitlessly  as  on  the  week  before. 


19 


The  morning  carne;  but  brought  no  cheer  for  me ; 
Misfortune's  face  't  was  yet  my  lot  to  see. 
Hope  bravely  spoke,  but  Thought  was  very  sad, 
For,  one  lone  dime  was  all  the  coin  I  had. 

Travelling  west,  Dolores  came  to  view, 
But,  passing  on,  her  walls  as  quickly  flew. 

The  morning  fled ;  the  noontide  came  and  went, 
But,  reckless  grown,  Thought  cared  not  to  lament ; 
And  when  from  town  full  fifteen  miles  had  passed, 
Employ  I  found  upon  a  grain  field  vast ; 
Through  nine  days  toiled,  then  back  again  returned, 
And,  over  Sabbath,  in  the  town  sojourned. 
Then  crossing  o'er,  again,  Francisco  Bay, 
Viewed  San  Lorenzo  ere  the  dusk  of  day. 

True  to  itself,  consistent  as  of  late, 

Still,  evil  shone  my  luckless  star  of  fate. 

My  funds  again  were  running  very  low, 

And  yet,  "to  raise  the  dust,"  there  was  "no  show.'' 

So,  hasting  back,  two  rolls  I  bought  to  eat, 

Then  fell  asleep  beside  a  stack  of  wheat. 

At  morn,  arose,  with  strength  and  vigor  new, 

And  soon  engaged  to  help  an  old  French  Jew. 

On  horse-back  he  had  ridden,  rather  flown, 
Two  miles,  post  haste,  from  village  San  Anoine. 
"A  mob,"  said  he,  "just  now  I've  been  among; 
For  stealing  cows,  two  Frenchmen  have  been  hung." 
Two  butchers,  they,  I  from  his  story  learned, 
Who,  lawlessly,  had  thus  their  "  came  "  earned. 


20 


But,  with  intent  to  right  the  suffered  wrong, 

The  "Redwood  Boys  "  came  down  a  hundred  strong. 

The  wretched  men  were  sentenced  to  be  hung, 

Though  loud  they  plead,  and  to  existence  clung. 

But;  ere  was  fixed  the  life  destroying  tie, 

A  woman  came,  who  thus  began  to  cry : 

"  Here's  eighteen  thousand,  all  in  solid  gold, 

But  from  these  men  release  your  murd'rous  hold." 

"  Ah  !  woman,  no  !  "  the  "  Redwood  Boys  "  replied  ; 

'Mid  earth  and  sky, — then  quick  the  felons  died. 

A  look  there  was  about  the  old  man's  eye, 

An  evil  glance  that  did  not  satisfy ; 

But,  times  were  hard,  and  folly  't  were  to  choose ; 

So  work  I  must,  though  gladly  would  refuse. 

Six  weeks  were  passed,  among  a  medley  gang, 

'Mid  varied  languages,  and  mongrel  twang. 

Thirty-five  men, — whom  ev'ry  land  could  boast, 

A  multiform,  heterogeneous  host. 

Grave  Spaniards,  English,  one  East  Indiaman, 

Gay  men  of  France,  and  French  Canadian, 

Bold  Irishmen,  with  Dutch,  both  high  and  low, 

California!) s,  and  sons  of  Mexico, 

Chilese  polite,  and  brave  Norwegians  bland, 

With  five  to  represent  our  own  free  land. 

Alone,  one  day,  dull  valley  scenes  to  change, 
I  wandered  off  upon  a  mountain  range. 
Though  nature  seemed  her  faded  dress  to  wail, 
September  glanced  in  smiles  athwart  the  vale. 
But  lo !  three  miles  in  distance  from  the  plain, 
'Neath  frowning  clouds,  was  thick  the  falling  rain ; 
And  "  mountain  boys  "   made  question  as  we  met : 
"  Upon  the  plains,  the  weather,  is  it  wet  ?  " 


21 


"  Far  from  it,  boys ;  the  plains  are  very  dry. 

And  bright  the  sun  smiles  from  a  cloudless  sky." 

With  some  surprise  at  once  their  voices  raise : 

lt  Ah !   say  you  so  ?    This  storm  has  raged  three  days." 

A  man  ere  long  at  Oakland  town  was  hung ; 
Horse-stealing  was  the  crime  for  which  he  swung.— 
In  county  jail,  where,  by  the  law  confined, 
The  wretched  man  protection  thought  to  find ; 
But,  vain  the  hope ;  scarce  in  his  lonely  cell, 
Aloud  is  heard  the  mob's  terrific  yell. 
They  draw  him  forth, — nor  heed  his  thrilling  cries, — 
Then, — 'mid  the  branches  of  an  oak, — he  dies. 

A  brandy-loving  Frenchman  was  our  cook, 

Who  for  his  cup,  the  kitchen  oft  forsook. 

More  clear  to  show  how  far  from  right  he'd  swerve, 

An  anecdote,  itself,  shall  briefly  serve. 

Of  hungry  dogs  a  dozen,  more  or  less, 

The  Frenchman's  pride,  't  was,  solely  to  possess. 

As  from  the  field  one  day,  the  house  we  neared, 

No  cook,  nor  dogs,  with  wonted  smiles  appeared. 

But,  walking  in,  the  reason  soon  was  shown : 

Although  the  board  beneath  its  weight  might  groan, 

No  cook  appeared ;  but,  all  the  dog's  were  there, 

And,  on  the  table,  two  found  dainty  fare. 

The  larger  one,  for  appetite's  relief, 

Was  finishing  his  dish  of  roasted  beef. 

One  shaggy  head  was  in  a  dish  of  soup, 

While  both  were  scat'ring  sundries  to  the  group. 

Once  more,  alas  !  Misfortune's  hated  form 
Stole  o'er  my  path, — within  her  hand  a  storm. 


22 

One  morning  bright,  our  thresher's  mighty  pow'r 

Had  scarce  begun  the  wheat  sheaves  to  devour, 

When,  lo !  a  man  by  ev'ry  one  unknown, 

Took  all  our  horses  down  to  San  Antoine. 

The  sheriff  't  was,  as  soon  he  bade  us  know, 

And  quick  complied,  when  told  his  writ  to  show. 

Machine  and  other  implements  were  seized, 

That  creditors'  cries  might  be  appeased. 

So  naught  was  left,  the  laborers  to  pay, 

And,  penniless,  full  many  went  away. 

The  wheat  remained,  but  that  gave  no  relief, 

For,  of  it  all,  the  Jew  ne'er  owned  a  sheaf. 

In  short  to  tell,  five  dollars  some  received, 

While  many  men  without  a  penny  grieved. 

What  course  to  take,  seemed  difficult  of  choice, 

But,  as  we  left,  a  man  from  Illinois, 

Who  from  the  Plains  arrived  three  weeks  before, 

And  for  the  Jew  had  worked  a  week,  or  more, 

Quick  made  approach,  and  thus  his  words  addressed : 

"Five  dollars,  you,  of  twelve  am  I  possessed. 

What  say  you,  shall  we  put  it  all  together, 

And  seek  the  mines  upon  the  river  Feather  ? 

The  rains  come  soon,  and  there,  as  I  am  told, 

Are  diggings  new,  and  very  rich  in  gold. 

We're  just  in  time,  before  the  rain  sets  in, 

To  stake  out  claims,  all  ready  to  begin." 

In  company,  we  walked  without  delay, 

To  San  Antoine,  and  crossed  Francisco  Bay. 

Six  men-of-war  were  lying  off  the  town, 

Which,  as  we  learned,  had  from  the  north  come  down, 

An  Anglo  French,  or  Allied  fleet  they  formed, 

Which  had  of  late  a  Russian  fortress  stormed ; 


But,  Sitka's  guns  were  so  expertly  aimed, 
Repulsed  were  they  with  vessels  sadly  maimed. 
Then,  sailing  south,  they  captured  on  the  way, 
A  merchant  ship,  and  made  Francisco  Bay. 

The  boat  at  four,  for  Sacramento  sailed, 

And,  high  in  hope,  as  better  fortune  failed, 

The  fare  we  paid,  five  dollars  for  the  deck, 

Which  well  nigh  proved  our  scanty  fortune's  wreck. 

Slow  was  the  boat,  and  chill  the  air  of  night, 
As,  on  the  deck,  we  watched  for  morning's  light. 
'Till  midnight,  near,  we  ploughed  a  wat'ry  field, 
When  bleak  Benicia's  dreary  face  revealed. 
We  briefly  paused,  then  with  the  smiling  moon, 
Crossed  o'er  the  face  of  lovely  Suisun. 

With  break  of  day  the  city  came  in  sight, 
And  on  the  levee  all  did  safe  alight. 
Though  seven  times  twenty  miles  above  the  bay, 
The  waters  here,  the  changing  tides  display ; 
And  barges,  ranged  along  the  river's  brink, 
With  tide  arise,  and  with  its  ebbing  sink. 

Wide  spreads  the  plain  on  which  the  city  stands, 

While,  all  around,  lie  fertile  garden  lands. 

The  American  forms  the  northern  bound ; 

The  Sacramento  walls  the  west  around : 

Then  south  and  east,  are  spread  to  close  the  scene, 

With  valleys  Sacramento,  and  Joaquin. 


24 


Now  leaving  town  for  Marysville  intent, 

By  some  mistake,  our  steps  from  J  street  bent. 

Old  Slitter's  Fort  we  left  upon  the  right, 

But  soon  observed  the  river  fade  from  sight  ; 

So  questioning  an  « hombre"  passing  by, 

Our  anxious  query  met  this  grave  reply : 

"  In  truth,  my  friends,  you've  gone  three  miles  astray ; 

This  road,  to  Prairie  City  leads  the  way ; 

Turn  right  about,  if  Marysville  you'd  find ; 

From  Sacramento,  north,  your  steps  must  wind ; 

Lisle 's  Bridge  you'll  cross,  the  river  trail  then  take, 

And  in  two  days  the  journey  you  can  make." 

Travelling  back,  we  took  the  proper  way, 
Disheartened,  near,  by  reason  of  delay ; 
The  toll-bridge  crossed,  four  bits  were  forced  to  pay, 
And  tow'rd  the  north,  bore  rapid  on  our  way ; 
Travelling  o'er,  in  full,  six  prairie  miles, 
Before  the  sun  looked  down  in  noonday  smiles. 
Naught  easier  than  walking  would  we  ask ; 
But  carrying  packs  was  another  task. 

A  loaded  team  soon  passing  chanced  to  be, 

When  looking  up,  companion  said  to  me : 

"  We'll  hail  the  man,  and  of  him  then  inquire, 

If,  to  his  knowledge,  any  wish  to  hire. 

Of  cash,  you  know,  we've  but  a  scanty  store, 

And  Marysville  lies  sixty  miles  before." 

The  man,  by  chance,  a  tradesman  wished  to  hire : 
"  To  build  a  barn,"  said  he,  "is  my  desire." 
A  carpenter,  companion  was  by  trade. 
And,  on  the  spot,  a  contract  quick  was  made. 


25 


As  on  I  went,  with  resolution  new, 

Determined  still,  the  journey  to  pursue, 

Aloud  the  teamster  called,  and  to  me  said, 

"  The  miner's  life  is  one  that  I  have  led. 

Be  now  advised ;  let  my  experience  be 

A  warning  voice,  and  satisfying  plea. 

This  oft  is  called  a  God-forsaken  land, 

But,  truly  so,  the  prostituted  hand 

That  delves  in  earth,  intent  to  rob  the  soil 

Of  wealth,  the  fit  reward  of  honest  toil. 

And,  furthermore,  it  is  not  time  to  mine ; 

Where  one  finds  gold,  lank  Poverty  finds  nine. 

Until  the  rains,  as  doubtless  you've  been  told, 

There's  scarce  a  <  show '  for  washing  out  your  gold. 

Rejoices  yet,  September  in  her  prime ; 

Look  not  for  gold  in  this  ungen'rous  clime, 

Till  winter's  blast,  down  yonder  mountain's  side, 

From  snowy  peaks,  shall  roll  a  fleecy  tide." 

Now  turning  back,  I  clambered  on  the  load, 
And  with  them  back  to  Sacramento  rode  ; 
Then  left  iny  friend,  nor  saw  his  face  again, 
Though  often  sought, — the  search  was  always  vain. 

Three  men,  by  chance  appeared,  rough  farmers  all, 

Who  owned,  in  company,  a  sail-boat  small ; 

And  on  their  ranch,  a  helping  hand  to  lend, 

I  soon  engaged,  the  river  to  descend. 

'T  was  fifty  miles,  or  more,  below  the  town, 

And  in  the  sail-boat  all  must  needs  go  down. 

Upon  the  morrow,  ere  the  rising  sun, 
Our  downward  trip  was  merrily  begun. 
4 


26 


The  morn  was  bright,  and  soft  the  whisp'ring  breeze 
Came  sporting  through  the  overhanging  trees. 
Her  brightest  smile,  sweet  nature  cheerful  gave, 
And  brightly  smiled,  in  turn,  the  gentle  wave. 
The  winding  stream  in  sparkling  beauty  ran, 
While  sycamores  bent  gracefully  to  fan 
Her  lovely  form,  whene'er  the  king  of  day 
Should  grasp  again,  the  reins  of  wonted  sway. 

Day  at  his  closing,  ushered  in  the  night, 

When  Sol  resigned  to  Luna's  milder  light ; 

And  boist'rous  winds,  though  hiding  through  the  day. 

At  night  sprang  out,  with  mother  Earth  to  play. 

The  tall  trees  rocked,  the  giddy  waters  danced, 

While  o'er  the  spray,  our  boat,  a  charger,  pranced. 

Day  crept,  once  more,  above  the  eastern  plain, 
And  by  his  light,  our  journey  did  we  gain. 
Twelve  miles  above,  the  stream  divides  in  two ; 
Old  River,  one,  the  other,  Steamboat  Slough. 
Three  miles  below,  their  hands  again  unite, 
And  soon  the  tides,  with  outstretched  arms,  invite 
Those  pure  mountain  waters,  their  haste  to  delay, 
And  make  them  a  home  in  the  wide-spreading  bay. 

For  full  five  weeks,  in  that  secluded  place, 
Each  day,  appeared  Old  River's  smiling  face. 
A  schooner,  then,  one  morn,  to  land  drew  nigh, 
Whose  master  chanced  a  freight  of  wood  to  buy ; 
And  on  her  deck,  a  passage  free  I  found, 
To  San  Francisco,  whither  she  was  bound. 
Bianca  was  the  name  she  truly  bore, 
But  sad  mishap  had  christened  something  more. 


27 


At  sundry  times,  her  widely  sweeping  boom 
Had  hurled  a  man  from  deck  to  wat'ry  doom ; 
And  scarce  had  yet  three  days  and  nights  gone  by, 
Since,  with  her  freight,  she  sank  by  daylight's  eye. 
Bloody  Bianca,  now  her  fated  name, 
Perpetual  spoke  her  sanguinary  fame. 

Two  days  and  nights,  the  vessel  ploughed  her  way. 
Then,  on  the  third,  at  San  Francisco  lay. 

The  "  People's  Line  "  of  river  opposition, 
Had  .brought  about  a  wonderful  transition : 
Two  bits,  the  fare,  was  so  extremely  low, 
That  back  again  I  quickly  thought  to  go. 

At  one  o'clock,  arrived,  all  went  ashore, 
And  Sacramento  town  was  viewed  once  more. 

Now,  back  and  forth,  five  trips  in  all  I  made, 
Then  o'er  one  week  in  Sacramento  staid. 
The  end  in  view,  thus  going  to  and  fro, 
An  explanation  brief,  will  clearly  show : 
Ere  from  my  home,  the  land  of  gold  was  sought, 
Two  years,  'mid  busy  wheels,  my  hands  had  wrought. 
'T  was  hope  held  out,  in  shops,  employ  to  find, 
Than  tilling  earth,  more  pleasing  to  my  mind. 

Again,  alas  !  my  purse  was  nearly  drained, 

Of  thirty-five,  no  dollar  there  remained. 

Yet,  still  resolved  the  miner's  life  to  try, 

With  spirits  good,  though  not  exceeding  high, 

My  chattels  all,  in  one  small  pack  I  rolled, 

And  lone,  on  foot,  looked  toward  the  land  of  gold. 


28 


The  self-same  road,  began  to  travel  o'er, 
As  with  my  comrade  just  six  weeks  before. 
Though  frowning  clouds  had  gathered  thick  o'erhead, 
With  hasting  steps,  and  silently,  I  sped  j 
But  soon  the  rain  descended  thick  and  fast, 
The  torrent  roared ;  relentless  blew  the  blast ; 
And  earth  beneath,  still  soft,  and  softer  grew, 
Till  weights  of  clay  adhered  to  either  shoe. 

In  grand  array  the  distant  mountains  rose, 
With  lofty  peaks  capped  by  eternal  snows ; 
And  on  the  left,  the  Sutter  Buttes  appeared, 
Whose  lofty  heads  in  grandeur  bold  upreared. 

The  noonday  came ;  a  tavern  chanced  to  be 
Upon  the  right,  but  spoke  no  hope  to  me. 
Hungry  and  cold,  I  passed  it  with  a  sigh, 
For  twenty  cents  would  not  suffice  to  buy. 

Near  daylight's  close,  a  village  came  to  view, 
And  hasting  on,  though  scarce  a  reason  knew, 
I  entered  Nicholaus  on  the  Feather, 
Or,  on  the  Bear,  as  both  streams  come  together. 
Though  small  the  village  was,  two  inns  were  there, 
For  through  its  center  passed  a  thoroughfare. 
From  Sacramento  thirty  miles  away, 
It  served  to  close  the  journey  of  a  day. 

Pale  Hunger  chid,  yet  by  the  town  I  passed, 
For,  of  "  two  bits,"  dared  not  to  spend  the  last. 
But,  walking  on,  a  man  in  passing  said, 
"  If  work  you  seek  go  on  two  miles  ahead ; 


29 

For,  there  you'll  find  a  man  who  seeks  a  hand 
To  fell  the  oaks  that  grow  upon  his  land." 

The  sun  went  down,  and  faster  fell  the  rain, 
Till  one  broad  lake,  seemed  that  wide-spreading  plain. 
Night  hurried  on ;  her  shades  she  threw  around, 
When  howled  the  wolf  with  distant,  dismal  sound. 

No  house  appeared ;  no  light  shone  out  before, 

Yet,  "  sure,"  thought  I,  "  two  miles  are  travelled  o'er." 

The  darkness  thick  revealed  no  place  of  rest, 

Not  e'en  of  distant  woodland,  to  suggest 

The  spreading  arms  of  some  half-conscious  oak, 

Whose  shelt'ring  pow'r  might  ward  the  tempest's  stroke. 

The  thought  soon  came :  'T  were  wiser,  now,  to  turn, 
Than  longer  strive  against  a  fate  so  stern, 
But,  vain  attempt !  alas  !  no  trail  was  there, 
The  path  to  point ;   returning  steps  to  bear. 

Now,  wretched  owls  their  hideous  notes  prolong, 

And  other  tribes  chime  in  with  dismal  song ; 

But  from  their  din  a  useful  hint  I  take, 

And  loudly  sing  for  failing  nature's  sake. 

The  notes  thus  raised,  which  might  have  shamed  the  owls, 

Brought  no  response,  save  distant,  wolfish  howls. 

In  vain,  sharp  vision  strove  to  pierce  the  night, 

With  hope  to  catch  some  distant,  friendly  light. 

My  weary  limbs  would  fain  their  task  forsake, 

And  soon,  it  seemed,  grim  Death  the  spell  must  break. 

At  midnight,  near,  the  storm  his  fury  ceased, 
And  scatt'ring  clouds  the  prisoned  stars  released. 


30 


Old  Darkness  still  upheld  his  gloomy  sway, 
But  two  black  lines  soon  faintly  bade  me  stay. 
And,  starlight  dim  by  feeble  rays  displayed, 
Where  two  cross  roads  four  equal  angles  made. 
"But  still/'  said  Thought,  "the  danger  is  not  o'er; 
The  way  to  town,  which  is  it  of  the  four  ?  " 
North,  south,  east,  west  were  quite  alike  to  me, 
And  each,  in  turn,  the  right  way  seemed  to  be. 
But  soon,  a  plan  came  haply  into  mind : 
"  If  one  be  right,  that  way  I  yet  may  find." 
Reflecting,  then,  that  early  in  the  night, 
The  chilling  tide  had  drifted  from  the  right, 
That  road  I  sought  which  turned  the  blast  around, 
And  quite  reversed  the  howling  tempest's  sound. 
Then  hasting  on,  a  distant  light  appeared, 
And  in  an  hour,  the  town  I  gladly  neared. 
One  public  house  was  still  all  brightly  lit, 
For,  near  the  bar  did  eager  gamblers  sit. 
Red-hot  the  stove,  for,  with  a  frequent  lunch, 
The  players  cried,  <>  Bring  us  hot  whiskey  punch  !  " 
Behind  his  bar  the  landlord  waiting  stood, 
To  measure  out  his  gin  and  brandy,  good. 

'T  was  one  o'clock ;  full  fifteen  hours  had  fled, 
With  naught  of  rest,  nor  yet  the  taste  of  bread. 
From  head  to  foot,  all  covered  o'er  with  mire, 
For  full  an  hour,  I  sat  beside  the  fire  ; 
Then  with  the  hope,  worse  evil  to  prevent, 
For  whiskey  punch  my  last  two  bits  were  spent. 
'T  was  habit  new,  and  drinking  from  the  brim, 
My  head  grew  light,  and  eyesight  somewhat  dim. 
I  told  the  landlord  how  the  night  had  flown, 
But  did  not  make  my  destitution  known. 


31 


For  supper  called,  but,  little  cared  for  bread, 
As  whiskey  punch  had  sadly  turned  my  head. 

One  room  contained,  all  lying  on  the  floor, 
Of  Chinamen,  no  less  than  twenty-four, 
Who,  in  their  native  costume  fully  dressed, 
Profoundly  slept  like  pigs  within  a  nest. 

At  two  o'clock  the  gamblers  ceased  their  game, 
With  sundry  oaths,  too  monstrous  here  to  name. 
Then,  calling  for  lodging,  in  sleep  profound, 
My  weary  frame  found  rest,  and  care  was  drowned. 

Dawn's  feebler  light  had  strengthened  into  day, 
Ere  from  my  bedside,  Morpheus  stole  away. 

The  house  I  left,  intent  to  take  a  view, 

And  plan,  meanwhile,  some  project  to  pursue, 

But  scarce  had  passed  the  threshold  of  the  door, 

When  quickly  running  from  a  grocery  store, 

A  drover  came,  whose  home  was  Suisun, 

And  fast  began  to  talk,  as  for  a  boon. 

A  drove  of  pigs  had  he,  but  in  the  night 

His  boy  grew  ill,  which  left  him  in  a  plight. 

"  For  two  dollars  a  day,  and  board,"  said  he, 

"  Will  you  help  drive  these  pigs  to  Cherokee  ?  " 

To  pay,  advance,  whate'er  my  bill  should  need, 

Without  delay  he  readily  agreed. 

Though  far  or  near,  I  little  cared  to  know, 

And  quick  engaged  upon  the  trip  to  go ; 

But  soon  he  said,  "  'T  is  seventy  miles  away, 

Of  which  we  hope  to  make  fifteen  per  day." 

His  partner  was  a  man  from  Tennessee, 

Pike  County  man,  himself  professed  to  be. 


32 


Two  teams  had  they,  small .  bags  of  flour,  the  freight, 

Two  horses,  one,  the  other,  oxen  eight. 

Beside  the  town  encamping  for  the  night, 

A  fire  we  made  to  put  the  wolves  to  flight. 

Then  hasting  on  with  morning's  earliest  ray, 

The  sunset  found  us  twenty  miles  away. 

The  road  we  travelled,  I  remembered  well :  — 

'T  was  where  the  owls  had  thought  to  scream  my  knell. 

Five  miles  from  town,  the  two  cross  roads  we  found ; 

Where  cruel  Night  had  dragged  me  round  and  round. 

Nor  was  it  strange  no  light  should  there  appear, 

And  naught  of  sound  had  wafted  to  my  ear. 

Ten  miles  were  passed,  before  a  cabin  rose, 

Or  e'en  a  tree,  its  shade  to  interpose. 

At  noon  of  day,  we  crossed  the  river  Bear, 
And  travelled  on  till  day  began  to  wear. 
When,  o'er  Dry  Creek,  upon  the  farther  side, 
Good  camping  ground,  with  water,  pure,  was  spied. 
A  stove  we  had,  by  which  to  bake  our  bread, 
And  blazing  camp-fires  served  in  candles'  stead. 
The  pigs  we  drove,  for  safety,  near  the  fire, 
As  hungry  wolves  were  howling  their  desire. 

Sixty-two  miles  fled  southward ;  then  at  eve, 
Near  French  Corral,  day  claimed  a  fourth  reprieve  j 
And  o'er  our  forest  camp,  night  swiftly  sped, 
Till,  with  the  dawn,  her  waning  form  waxed  red. 
We  passed  the  hours,  by  day's  command  set  free, 
And  with  him  viewed  the  town  of  Cherokee. 

The  pigs  we  left,  a  fat,  contented  band, 

To  roam  the  hills,  and  graze  the  mountain  land ; 


33 


Then  left  for  Marysville  at  break  of  day, 
Consuming  thirty  hours  upon  the  way. 
At  Suisun,  a  ranch  the  men  possessed. 
Till,  to  their  thoughts,  reflection  did  suggest, 
That  near  the  mines,  if  no  ill  luck  befel, 
A  tannery  would  pay  extremely  well. 
Then  packing  up,  they  started  with  a  will, 
Leaving  their  "  goods  "  to  come  by  Marysville. 

Wandering  Impulse,  now  as  oft  before, 

Blind,  senseless  pilot,  ran  my  bark  ashore. 

With  strong  desire,  Nevada  town  to  see, 

Though  to  the  thought,  good  sense  would  not  agree, 

Full  forty  miles,  on  foot,  I  did  pursue, 

Elate  with  hope  of  some  adventure  new. 

The  Twelve  Mile  House,  I  passed  at  eventide, 

And  soon  prepared,  till  morning  to  abide ; 

A  camp-fire,  made,  and  in  that  forest  lone, 

In  silence,  laid  my  head  upon  a  stone ; 

Yet  oft  within  those  chilly  hours  did  wake, 

With  trembling  hands,  the  dying  coals  to  rake ; 

Then  leaving  camp  ere  yet  the  sun  arose, 

Nevada  came,  before  the  day's  repose. 

Small  mining  towns,  upon  the  way  were  passed, 

With  which,  young  Rough  and  Ready  may  be  classed. 

Grass  Valley,  too,  seemed  quite  a  thriving  town, 

Where  many  a  hill,  for  gold  had  melted  down ; 

Then  four  miles  on,  low  in  a  deep  ravine, 

Nevada  lay,  high  mountain  lands  between. 

To  mine  for  gold,  I  vainly  there  essayed, 
And  gamblers,  then,  monopolized  the  trade. 
5 


The  public  houses  scarcely  could  contain 

The  miners,  woe-begone  for  lack  of  rain. 

So,  with  the  morn,  I  left  for  Marysville, 

Retraced  the  way  with  hasting  steps,  until 

Full  thirty-six,  of  forty  miles  were  gained. 

When  darkness  thick,  my  weary  feet  arraigned. 

The  night  I  passed,  upon  a  stack  of  hay, 

But  ere  the  morn,  perceived  with  great  dismay, 

That  from  thick  clouds  the  scatt'ring  rain  drops  fell, 

Which  soon  increased ;  in  torrents  came,  pell-mell. 

Full  dire  the  thought  of  want  and  added  woe, 

Yet  sadly  on,  with  silent  step  I  go ; 

And,  reaching  town,  encased  in  mud  and  mire, 

Soon  dry  my  clothes  beside  a  bar-room  fire. 

Four  frosty  nights  in  chill  December's  reign, 
Passed  hopelestly,  upon  the  open  plain. 
Four  days  in  fruitless  rambling  there  I  spent, 
Then  had  for  consolation, — not  one  cent. 
Wandering  off,  scarce  knowing  what  to  do, 
Six  miles,  or  more,  from  town,  I  chanced  to  view 
The  old  Missourian's  partner,  on  his  way 
To  Cherokee  Eanch,  with  two  loads  of  hay. 
Their  freight  had  not  at  Marysville  arrived, 
But,  hay  to  get,  for  carting,  they'd  contrived. 
11  Missouri,"  then  had  left  to  see  a  friend, 
Who  had  engaged  some  weary  pigs  to  tend, 
Which  had  been  left,  their  vigor  to  renew, 
That,  in  due  time,  the  trip  they  might  pursue. 

A  teamster,  who,  near  Marysville  was  hired, 
Had  homesick  grown,  and  to  return,  desired. 


35 


Him  I  relieved  for  stipulated  pay, 
Of  grub,  or  food,  and  two  dollars  a  day. 
Four  days  and  nights  the  journey  yet  required, 
For  various  haps  upon  the  way  transpired. 
As,  for  &n  instance,  when  we  rose  one  morn, 
To  speed  our  way, — the  oxen  all  were  gone ; 
But,  searching  round,  we  found  them  on  a  hill, 
Six  miles  behind,  going  back  to  Marysville. 
Another  hap  then  caused  us  some  delay, 
One  wagon  broke, — down  came  a  load  of  hay. 
At  last,  arrived,  we  found  "  Missouri  "  there, 
Impatient  waiting,  almost  in  despair. 

To  Minnesota,  then,  we  drove  the  swine, 

Full  forty  miles  in  a  northerly  line. 

O'er  Backbone  Bridge,  by  Grisly  Canon  went, 

And  passed  the  night,  ensconced  in  old  Snow  Tent. 

From  Orleans  Flat,  by  Concord  Bar  we  passed 

O'er  Yuba's  branch,  and  stood  again  at  last, 

Exhausted,  all,  on  Minnesota's  height, 

The  second  day,  before  the  fall  of  night. 

'T  were  well  to  stay,  and  though  digress  too  far, 

Tell  how  those  pigs  went  down  o'er  Concord  Bar. 

But  all  whose  steps  through  that  ravine  have  led, 

Know  well  how  deep  the  Yuba  cuts  her  bed. 

And  all  whose  way  there  never  chanced  to  wend, 

Would,  at  the  best,  but  faintly  comprehend. 

Suffice  to  say,  that  save  the  weary  plod 

Of  patient  mules,  no  burdened  beast  ere  trod 

Those  fearful  heights,  which,  in  their  bold  ascent, 

Deep  chasms  form,  as  though  the  earth  were  rent. 

The  pigs  were  sold,  and  being  once  more  free, 
Reflection's  voice  her  words  addressed  to  me : 


36 


"  In  all  its  modes,  gold  digging  you  have  seen ; 
You're  now  prepared  to  judge,  those  modes  between. 
If  now,  indeed,  the  miner's  lot  you  choose, 
' Pitch  in'  you  must;  hard  labor  not  refuse. 
Here's  quartz-rock  grinding,  fliiming,  panning. 
Tunneling,  rocking,  and  river  damming, 
Hydraulic  pipes,  much  used  for  gully  sinking, 
And  other  ways,  all  worth  attentive  thinking." 
But  miners,  there,  in  number  many  a  score, 
Gray-headed,  some,  not  turned  of  twenty-four, 
One  story,  all,  in  mournful  accent  told, 
"  If  health  you  value,  never  dig  for  gold." 

Twelve  dollars,  now,  my  fortune  all,  embraced, 
And  toward  the  south,  my  steps  again  I  traced. 
By  three  days'  light,  walked  seventy  miles  and  five, 
And  did,  with  dusk,  at  Marysville  arrive ; 
Then  at  the  dawning  of  another  day, 
Left  Marysville  for  San  Francisco  Bay. 

As  oft  before,  a  week  now  passed  in  vain, 
When  sad  to  tell,  "  dead  broke  "  was  I  again. 
For  Petaloma  then,  by  sloop  set  sail, 
To  load  with  wood,  if  other  freight  should  fail. 
Before  we  left,  a  storm  convulsed  the  bay, 
And,  off  Red  Rock,  the  sloop  was  forced  to  lay. 
That  tempest  night  can  ne'er  from  mem'ry  fade, 
For,  all  the  pow'rs  of  nature  seemed  arrayed, 
To  roll  the  hostile  waters  of  the  bay, 
Upon  the  land,  their  empire  to  display. 
'T  was  old  December  in  a  passion  wrought; 
To  lengthen  out  his  cheerless  days  he  sought; 
But,  'mid  the  night,  the  hopeful   infant  year, 
Did  suddenly  in  Janus'  arms  appear. 


37 

December  raved,  and  stirred  the  tempest's  pow'r ; 
But  all  in  vain,  for  Janus  ruled  the  hour. 
Cold  shrivelled  limbs,  and  age's  falt'ring  pace, 
Were  ill  a  match  for  New  Year's  youthful  grace. 

The  captain's  voice  we  often  heard  that  night  : 
Ho  !     Boys  !     On  deck,  and  make  her  anchor  right ! 
High  on  the  billows'  crest,  our  boat  was  thrown, 
Then,  deep  engulphed,  anon  her  sides  did  groan. 
But  scarce  heard  we,  the  tempest's  angry  sound, 
For  table,  stove,  and  chairs  were  dancing  round. 

Our  sails  we  set,  with  daylight's  first  display. 

And  Petaloma  viewed,  at  close  of  day. 

The  stream  we  sailed,  which  bears  the  city's  name, 

Supports  upon  its  banks,  all  kinds  of  game  ; 

And,  as  a  sportsman,  captain  proved  to  be, 

He  quick  gave  chase,  whene'er  we  chanced  to  see 

An  antelope,  but  ne'er  would  touch  his  gun, 

For  turkey-buzzard,  goose,  or  pelican. 

A  freight  of  wood,  near  forty  cords,  we  took, 

Then  to  the  breeze,  our  spreading  canvas  shook ; 

At  San  Francisco  soon  discharged  the  wood, 

And  in  two  days,  toward  Sacramento  stood. 

The  storm  that  raged  so  fierce,  on  New  Year's  night, 

Had  left  to  the  city,  tokens  of  might. 

Whole  roofs  were  blown,  church  spires  came  tumbling  down. 

And  houses  fell,  in  many  parts  of  town. 

One  vessel  sank,  while  wrecked  were  many  more. 

That  by  the  surf  were  dashed  upon  the  shore. 

One  hundred  miles  above,  on  island  lone, 

A  ranch  there  was,  the  captain  called  his  own ; 


38 

On  which,  to  toil,  I  now  engaged  to  go  ; 
To  clear  up  the  land  with  a  grubbing  hoe, 
So  left  the  sloop,  when  forty  miles  away, 
And  twenty  walked,  by  light,  the  self-same  day. 
Then  passed  the  night,  the  river's  bank  beside, 
Where,  for  a  pillow,  mining  boots  provide. 

Next  day,  arriving  opposite  the  farm, 

I  called  aloud,  the  household  to  alarm, 

When  slowly  came  its  only  tenant  out, 

And  to  my  call  responded  with  a  shout. 

Then  o'er  the  stream,  he  paddled  in  a  boat, 

And  eager  read  a  « line  "  which  captain  wrote, 

Then  quickly  asked,  «  Which  of  the  week  is  this  ?  " 

"  Why  !  Saturday,  unless  I'm  quite  amiss." 

"  Zounds  !     I've  been  keeping  Sunday,"  quick  he  cried, 

With  mouth  agape,  and  eye-balls  rolling  wide. 

In  grubbing  roots,  two  weary  weeks  were  spent, 
But,  with  sucli  life,  'twas  hard  to  feel  content. 
The  Chills  and  Fever,  also,  lent  their  aid, 
To  shake  my  resolution,  and  persuade 
A  hesitating  mind  to  delve  no  more, 
As  Fortune  had  some  better  fate  in  store. 
The  ranch  I  left,  aud  walked  without  delay, 
Toward  Sacramento,  eighteen  miles  away  • 
And,  reaching  town  just  in  the  edge  of  night, 
Upon  a  woodpile,  passed  the  chilly  night. 
Now  four  months'  work  at  gardening,  I  found, 
Upon  a  ranch  within  the  city's  bound. 
'Twas  near  the  dike,  or  levee's  north  extreme, 
Beside  the  bank  where  sister  waters  seem 
In  haste  to  join,  ere  nature  gives  command, 
Their  brother  Sacramento,  heart  and  hand. 


39 

Though  in  that  vale  the  snow  flakes  never  fall, 
The  distant  mountains,  hoary  giants,  all, 
Lift  up  their  heads  against  a  sunlit-sky, 
In  regions  where  eternal  snow-banks  lie. 

Two  months  passed  on,  with  little  to  excite, 
Save  bank  suspensions,  then  at  zenith  height. 
Kern  River  humbug,  too,  its  work  began, 
Of  arming  dupes,  with  pickaxe,  spade,  and  pan. 

Some  Digger  Indians  from  the  north  came  down, 

And  made  their  camp  just  three  half  miles  from  town ; 

And  often,  there,  when  free  from  work  at  night, 

The  boys  clubbed  round  to  see  them  dance,  and  fight. 

Their  custom  was,  by  day  to  cross  the  stream, 

And  scour  the  swamps  where  berries  always  teem ; 

By  daylight  pick,  at  evening  go  and  sell, 

Buy  whiskey,  drink,  then  gamble,  fight,  and  yell. 

But  shrewder,  they,  than  many  of  our  race ; 

The  weaker  sex  found  in  their  hearts  a  place. 

Soda  they  brought,  and  very  plain  the  cause : 

'T  was  this,  they  knew,  would  pacify  the  squaws, 

Good  natured  things,  who'd  drag  them  to  the  tent, 

When  strength  was  gone,  and  animation  spent. 

Two  farms,  there  were,  that  bordered  side  by  side, 
On  each  of  which,  two  months  I  did  reside. 
A  man  from  New  Orleans,  one  owner  was, 
Who,  many  lawsuits  had,  with  no  just  cause. 
Now  on  his  claim,  a  house  or  hovel  stood, 
Not  very  large,  by  Dutchmen  built,  of  wood. 
His  men  one  morn  he  called  together,  three, 
And  thus  began  to  issue  his  decree : 


40 


"  See  yonder  house  that  rises  on  my  land  ? 
Go  tear  it  down !  no  longer  shall  it  stand." 
We  knew  not,  then,  a  bitter  quarrel  raged, 
Or  that  a  warfare,  legal,  had  been  waged, 
In  which,  his  suit  the  Southron,  action  having  lost, 
Was  forced  to  pay  a  heavy  bill  of  cost. 
So  off  we  went,  with  crowbar,  axe,  and  shovel, 
And  tore  away  aforesaid  Dutchmen's  hovel. 
But,  when  complete,  and  rubbish  packed  away, 
The  sheriff  came,  and  this  was  pleased  to  say : 
"  Step  in  this  carriage,  now,  sirs,  if  you  please, 
The  cries  of  broken  law  you  must  appease. 
Upon  the  case  't  were  useless  to  enlarge, 
"  Malicious  Mischief,"  doubtless,  is  the  charge. 
My  writ  is  here,  by  which  you'll  please  to  see, 
Its  plain  instructions  with  my  acts  agree." 
The  Southerner,  ringleader  in  the  play, 
Was  on  the  list,  and  taken  on  our  way. 
The  cost  and  twenty  dollars,  each  was  fined, 
.But  Southron  paid,  and  we  felt  quite  resigned. 
Yet,  cool  Reflection  spoke  in  tones  not  sweet, 
True  names  we'd  given,  honest,  not  discreet. 
Crime's  record,  thus,  our  names  must  ever  bear, 
Grave  dereliction  ever  to  declare. 
'T  is  pleasing,  oft,  one's  name  in  print  to  see, 
But  so,  to  us,  it  did  not  prove  to  be, 
When,  plain  in  type,  on  the  following  day, 
"Recorder's  Court"  made  sach  a  free  display. 

The  harvest  season  now  came  on  again, 
And  gardening  was  left,  for  binding  grain. 
For  four  day's  work,  twelve  dollars  was  the  pay, 
When,  wearied  quite,  I  started  for  the  bay. 


41 


O'er  one  day,  then,  in  San  Francisco  staid, 
And  on  the  next,  returning  passage  made. 
To  Stockton,  then,  on  foot  decide  to  go, 
Full  fifty  miles  from  city  Sacramento. 
But,  clothes  and  blankets  forming  quite  a  store, 
With  divers  books,  in  number  near  a  score, 
A  pack  I  took,  and  left  in  town,  the  rest, 
With  wise  intent,  of  burden  to  divest. 

The  city  passed,  and  as  the  twilight  neared, 

A  wayside  inn,  the  Twelve  Mile  House,  appeared. 

When  morning  came,  I  went  not  on  my  way, 

But  with  the  landlord,  there  agreed  to  stay ; 

Upon  his  ranch  six  working  days  then  spent, 

And  back  again  to  Sacramento  went. 

To  get  my  pack,  then  quickly  did  repair, 

But,  when  arrived, — alas  !  no  inn  was  there. 

Of  all,  so  late  those  furnished  walls  contained, 

A  mass  of  ashes,  now,  alone  remained. 

Two  nights  before,  when  darkness  hung  around, 

The  house  was  burned,  with  contents,  to  the  ground, 

Stern  was  the  truth,  though  easy  to  discover  : 

No  one  who  lost  could  ere  a  cent  recover. 

Though  sad  the  loss,  't  were  useless  now  to  mourn  ; 

1  What  could  not  be  prevented  must  be  borne.' 

To  Stockton,  now,  by  stage,  direct  I  go, 
From  which,  for  good,  no  consequences  flow. 
The  San  Joaquin,  by  steam  I  did  descend 
To  San  Francisco,  hoping  there  to  mend 
My  shattered  fortunes,  but  no  longer  stay, 

Than  till  the  time  of  harvest  passed  away. 
6 


Then  leave  a  land,  where  fourteen  months  had  flown, 

Within  whose  days,  no  rest  my  feet  had  known. 

So  crossing  south,  o'er  San  Francisco  Bay, 

Three  months  I  spent  near  Mission  San  Jose. 

A  farewell,  then,  to  Sacramento  paid, 

And  for  a  homeward  trip  arrangements  made. 


45 


'T  was  now  October ;  fifteen  months  had  rolled, 

Since,  high  in  hope,  my  home  I  left  for  gold. 

The  bright  day  dreams  of  youth's  untutored  mind, 

Had  disappeared  a,nd  left  a  void  behind. 

The  glit'tring  lines  that  Fancy's  hand  had  traced 

Upon  life's  title  page,  had  Truth  erased ; 

When  flashed  the  thought :    Life's  romance  is  a  dream, 

From  which  the  world's  cold  hands  awake,  redeem. 

One  fact,  in  brief,  for  justice  must  be  told : 
California's  soil  was  rich  in  gold ; 
And  that  amount,  though  needless  here  to  say, 
Scarce  was  less  when  the  writer  came  away. 

In  action,  then,  two  steamship  lines  there  were, 

So  to  my  mind  the  question  did  occur : 

"  Which  of  the  two  does  prudence  bid  me  take ; 

By  Panama,  or  Nicaragua's  lake  ?  " 

Some  evil  star  had  seemed  my  fate  to  rule, 

Control  my  steps,  and  turn  to  ridicule 

All  wiser  thought,  when  wisdom  dared  suggest 

A  wiser  plan,  or  to  my  own  protest. 

Adventures  new,  a  change  would  bring,  no  doubt : 

This  thought  pronounced  for  Nicaragua's  route. 

In  civil  war  poor  Nicaragua,  now 
Lay  low  engulfed :  and  he  upon  whose  brow 
A  zealous  world  have  deeply  fixed  the  brand 
Of  "  filibuster,"  there  held  high  command ; 


46 


In  defence  of  the  right,  the  people's  voice, 

Commander-in-chief  by  popular  choice. 

For  thirty  years,  while  Faction's  cruel  hand 

Had  bathed  in  blood  the  face  of  that  fair  land, 

Her  restless  sons  with  native  thirst  for  strife, 

Scarce  e'er  had  sheathed  the  sanguinary  knife. 

Revolution,  in  the  cycle  of  crime, 

Had  quite  out-rolled  the  yearly  orb  of  time. 

Nor  were  her  laws  in  Order's  transient  reign, 

But  iron  links  in  grim  Oppression's  chain, 

With  which,  in  turn,  each  tyrant  sought  to  bind 

The  rising  thought,  that  moved  the  common  mind. 

The  wealthy  few,  sole  power  had  long  possessed, 

And,  consequent,  the  masses  were  oppressed, 

Who,  in  their  turn,  to  native  impulse  true, 

In  strife  engaged,  though  why  they  scarcely  knew. 

They  felt  the  weight  of  Persecution's  heel, 

And  Spanish  impulse  bade  them  grasp  the  steel. 

But  time  moved  on,  and  with  his  steady  pace, 

As  surely  moved  the  Spanish  Indian  race. 

Some  feeble  rays  of  Freedom's  rising  sun, 

In  that  benighted  land,  had  now  begun 

To  pierce  their  gloom,  and  rouse  the  dormant  life 

Of  intellect,  to  arm  in  noble  strife. 

Two  castes  there  were,  from  which  two  bands  had  sprung, 

And  to  its  own,  tenaciously  each  clung. 

The  Liberals,  with  Indian  blood  allied, 

Were  popular,  and  struggled  to  provide 

Their  blood-stained  land  with  democratic  laws ; 

To  fix  on  firmer  base,  the  people's  cause. 

Against  these  plans,  with  wise  prevision  laid, 

The  wealthy  class  in  hostile  force  arrayed. 


47 


Though  fallen  sons  of  old  Castilian  race, 
Their  Spanish  pride  still  held  its  ancient  place. 
But  recently,  their  selfish  plans  had  failed, 
And,  for  a  time,  fair  Freedom's  cause  prevailed. 
Yet  ever  to  their  restless  natures  true, 
The  Serviles  raised  Rebellion's  flag  anew. 
The  principle  they  had  so  late  professed, 
That  popular  rule  were  always  the  best, 
With  perfidy  they  quickly  now  forsook, 
Plebean  rule,  too  proud  were  they  to  brook. 

The  war  waged  tierce,  but  on  the  battle  field, 
The  Liberals,  at  last,  were  forced  to  yield. 
Castillion  fled ;  the  Serviles  ruled  the  day, 
Assumed  to  legislate,  held  wanton  sway. 
The  fierce  Chamorro,  by  his  rebel  band, 
Was  then  declared  chief  ruler  of  the  land. 

Liberals,  all,  assembled  round  their  chief, 
And  quick  devised  a  plan  to  bring  relief. 
As  skillful,  brave,  and  to  adventure  prone, 
Already,  well,  was  William  Walker  known. 
To  San  Francisco  he  had  late  returned, 
From  Mexico  with  reputation  earned 
In  reckless  warfare  on  Sonora's  plain, 
With  purpose,  fell,  a  foothold  there  to  gain. 
His  willing  hand  the  Liberals  invite, 
Their  cause  to  aid,  their  enemies  to  fight. 
So  in  the  month  of  May,  in  fifty-five, 
A  little  band,  but  fifty,  did  arrive 
On  Nicaragua's  soil  at  San  Juan, 
With  Grey-eyed  William  leading  up  the  van. 


48 

He  went,  't  is  true,  with  more  of  haste  than  grace, 
With  terms  arranged  as  lawyers  take  a  case 
Of  client  poor,  who  has  no  means  to  pay, 
Unless,  in  common  phrase,  he  "gains  the  day." 
"  Our  cause  is  just,"  the  vanquished  party  said, 
"  But  Might  slew  Right,  and  reigns  in  Justice's  stead. 
The  realm  is  ours ;  if  we  possession  gain, 
Your  pay  shall  be  a  slice  of  the  domain." 
But  ere  that  band  had  crossed  the  ocean  spray, 
In  death's  cold  arms  the  brave  Castillion  lay. 
Chamorro,  also,  died, — that  leader  base, 
And  brave  Corral  was  chosen  in  his  place. 

Infused  anew  with  patriotic  ardor, 
The  Liberals  took  Leon,  and  Grenada, 
Held  Virgin  Bay,  with  San  Juan  del  Sur, 
In  which  position,  now,  the  parties  were. 

The  "filibuster  fever"  then  held  sway, 
From  Klamath's  mouth,  to  San  Diego  Bay. 
Misfortune's  offspring,  men  of  ev'ry  grade, 
Pickpockets,  thieves,  and  sogues  of  varied  shade, 
From  hill  and  dale,  in  haste  were  drawing  near, 
In  Nicaragua's  cause  to  volunteer. 
As  now  the  hawk  had  on  his  victim  pounced, 
Our  government  with  righteous  zeal,  pronounced 
The  game  opposed  to  treaty  stipulation, 
And  deep  disgrace  to  any  Christian  nation. 

The  Uncle  Sam  had  long  since  been  removed 
From  Panama,  which  route  had  clearly  proved, 
A  private  scheme  of  selfish  competition, 
Though  loud  proclaimed  as  "  People's  Opposition." 


49 

While  on  her  last,  from  Nicaragua  made, 

A  deadly  scourge,  its  frightful  game  had  played.    . 

The  Cholera,  old  Death's  obedient  slave, 

Had  sunk  two  hundred  men  beneath  the  wave ; 

And  "  Charnel  Ship,"  though  fitting  appellation, 

Was  not  so  good  a  standing  commendation. 

Yet,  "  swept  and  garnished  "  all,  her  plague-stained  walls, 

The  dismal  fact  no  more  the  mind  appalls. 

So,  high  to  mast-head  quick  her  flag  she  ran, 

And  advertised,  "  New  York,  by  San  Juan." 

The  day  arrived,  and  dense  the  motley  gang- 
That  round  the  steamer  at  her  wharf  did  hang. 
Yet,  all  unheeded  came  the  hour,  and  went ; 
Her  pier  to  leave,  the  boat  showed  no  intent. 
But  plain  the  cause,  though  not  a  word  was  told ; 
The  would-be  soldiers,  lacked  the  weight  of  gold, 
And  consequently,  on  the  wharf  must  stay, 
Till  Parker  French  should  come,  their  fare  to  pay. 

The  marshal  and  his  gang  did  soon  arrive, 
The  boat  to  search,  with  purpose  hence  to  drive 
All  vagabonds,  and  men  of  evil  eye, 
Who  had  no  pass,  nor  aught  to  certify, 
That  compensation  had,  in  truth,  been  made, 
By  passage  money,  bonafide  paid. 
As  frightened  turtles  in  a  panic  slide 
From  sunny  perch,  in  clumsy  haste  to  hide  j 
So  disappeared  our  doughty  soldier  boys, 
As  quick  they  heard  the  foe's  approaching  noise. 
The  search  was  made,  and  from  each  hiding  place, 
Was  brought  to  light,  full  many  a  reckless  face, 
7 


50 


Whose  guilt-stained  features  quietly  revealed 
What  blust'ring  words,  and  artful  lips  concealed. 
Of  muskets,  too,  a  wagon  load  were  seized, 
Which  latter  feat,  the  marshal's  ire  appeased. 
Then  Parker  French  came  driving  down  the  pier, 
With  a  crowd  of  patriots  in  the  rear. 

A  rabble  dense  thus  gathered  round  in  strife, 

In  tumult  rolled,  a  surging  sea  of  life ; 

To  which,  each  human  face,  an  angry  wave, 

The  frenzied  tossing  of  the  tempest  gave. 

'T  was  soon  made  known,  that  to  the  eager  crowd, 

But  sixty-five  tickets  would  be  allowed. 

This  plain  report,  a  savage  howling  drew ; 

Kevolvers  waved,  and  bitter  curses  flew. 

Uplifted,  all,  their  deadly  weapons  stay, 

Ill-omened  pause,  that  speaks  a  bloody  fray. 

But,  softly  speaks  the  wily  agent,  now, 

And,  brief  explaining,  quickly  quells  the  row. 

:Mid  deafning  shouts,  at  last  the  steamer  clears 
Her  anchorage,  when,  quick  a  sloop  appears, 
As  from  a  distant  wharf  she  glides  away, 
And  swift  pursues  us  o'er  the  tranquil  bay. 
Upon  her  deck  appear,  in  spite  of  law, 
Four  hundred  men  for  Nicaragua's  war. 
Our  boat  is  checked ;  the  other  speeds  anew, 
While  loudly  jeer  her  desperado  crew. 
But  now  is  heard,  a  deep,  stentorian  voice, 
Whose  well-known  sound  presents  no  other  choice, 
Than  be  detained,  or  from  injunction  fly ; 
For  the  tones  we  hear  are  the  marshal's  cry. 


51 


In  yonder  row-boat,  lo  !  he  swiftly  nears, 
Which  high  excites  our  worthy  captain's  fears. 
So,  leaving  the  marshal  perched  in  his  boat, 
Loud  screaming  his  order  in  clarion  note ; 
Leaving  the  freebooters  vainly  to  plead, 
We  paddle  away  with  the  utmost  speed, 

The  G-olden  Gate  his  rocky  bars  displayed, 
And  San  Francisco's  hills  farewell  we  bade. 
Then,  sailing  by  the  far-famed  passage  way, 
Dark  orifice  punctured  by  ocean's  spry, 
Bold  giant  rocks,  'mid  frowning  darkness  piled 
To  dizzy  height,  o'erlook  the  surges  wild. 
Black  sullen  hills  in  mute  defiance  stand, 
While  far  away,  in  gloomy  silence  grand, 
'Mid  murky  clouds  that  dim  the  distant  skies, 
Long  heavy  chains  of  dismal  mountains  rise. 
Deep  yawning  gulfs,  and  threat'ning  gulches  wide, 
Ensconced  in  gloom,  those  barren  wastes  divide. 

Of  passengers,  four  hundred,  all  entire, 
Full  seventy-five  there  were,  who  did  aspire 
To  wield  the  sword,  and  rifle,  in  a  land 
Where  Cholera  upheld  his  ghastly  hand. 
And  when  at  morn,  from  mountain  top  upsprang 
The  tardy  Sun,  and  joy  through  nature  rang, 
Two  companies,  of  such  as  volunteered, 
Were  organized,  and  Col.  Fry  appeared, 
With  written  charge,  conferring  high  command 
Of  all  recruits  he  might  succeed  to  land, 

Swift  rolled  the  hours,  as  southward  now  we  sailed, 

For  scenes  of  interest  scarce  ever  failed. 

The  volunteers,  by  military  drill, 

Were  taught  to  '  train  the  muscle  to  the  will.' 


In  active  service,  weapons  soon  to  bear, 

They  for  the  work  did  zealously  prepare. 

Though  winds  blew  fierce,  and  billows  high  did  heave, 

The  roll  was  called,  each  day  at  morn,  and  eve ; 

When,  with  his  weapon,  ev'ry  volunteer, 

For  rifle  drill,  must  at  his  post  appear. 

When  three  days  out,  one  man  was  taken  ill, 

Refused  all  food,  but  brandy,  drank,  until 

Two  days  from  San  Juan,  when  reason  fled, 

And  wild  fantasia  seized  his  vacant  head ; 

Then  rushing  to  the  deck  by  demon  aid, 

Without  a  word,  one  savage  bound  he  made, 

The  guards  to  clear,  but,  one  who  chanced  to  stand 

Beside  the  madman,  quickly  caught  one  hand. 

His  feet  and  hands  were  then  securely  bound, 

Though  by  his  yells  the  surging  waves  were  drowned. 

Then,  dragged  below,  and  laid  upon  the  floor, 

He  plead,  at  first,  then  frantic,  cursed  and  swore. 

Now  peals  of  horrid  laughter  filled  the  air, 

Then  some  dire  fancy  drove  him  to  despair. 

"  0  shoot  me,  boys  !  What !  hang  a  man  for  that !  " 

Then  to  his  friends  that  close  around  him  sat, 

He  fiercely  said,  with  eyes  that  madly  rolled, 

"  Treacherous  knaves  !  you  Ve  sold  my  life  for  gold  !  " 

Then  quickly  changed  his  frenzied  look  and  tone. 

As  though  the  demon  Lunacy  had  flown ; 

And,  gravely  musing  on  his  past  misdeeds, 

He  tells  them  all,  and  for  existence  pleads. 

"  The  money  we  spent  for  political  use  ; 

But,  hang  a  man  for  that !   0,  dire  abuse  !  " 

Till  midnight,  near,  incessant  did  he  rave, 

Then  dying,  soon  beneath  the  rolling  wave 


53 


His  body  sank,  to  find  a  peaceful  sleep, 
Or — feed  the  finny  monsters  of  the  deep. 

The  twelfth  day  came,  and  near  the  dead  of  night, 
Juan  del  Sur  rose  on  our  gladdened  sight. 
Her  gloom-set  hills  faint  met  our  eager  gaze, 
As  the  chary  moon  shed  feebly  her  rays. 
When  morning  came,  in  boats  we  went  ashore, 
By  passing  through  a  hulk,  not  long  before, 
Called  hospital ;  a  pest-house,  truer  named, 
For  luckless  fillibusters,  sick,  or  maimed. 

The  town  of  San  Juan,  if  fitly  called, 
Sits  low  at  water's  edge,  by  mountains  walled, 
Or  lofty  hills,  beyond  whose  right  extreme, 
The  Transit  winds,  and  fertile  meadows  gleam. 
Dense  forest  lands  retire,  and  slowly  rise, 
Extending  east,  and  north,  where,  'mid  the  skies, 
Of  sunlit  hue,  volcanic  mountains  rear 
Their  smoky  heads,  'mid  clouds  to  disappear. 
The  little  land-clasped  bay,  in  hushed  repose, 
Untroubled  lies,  though  fierce  the  tempest  blows ; 
For,  right  and  left,  the  noble  hills  extend 
Their  giant  arms,  its  safety  to  defend. 

By  Spanish  mules  in  clumsy  coaches  drawn, 
While  smooth  the  way,  we  rapid  travelled  on. 
The  volunteers  at  San  Juan  remained  j 
Though  cause  for  which  was  not  to  us  explained. 
To  Col.  Fry,  permission  had  been  sent 
To  act  at  discretion.     Could  aught  prevent  ? 
The  sequel  proved,  excusable  transgression, 
He  quick  began  to  act  without  discretion. 


54 

Excusable,  all,  promptly  did  agree, 

Sure,  "  breach  of  trust  "  ne'er  had  a  better  plea ; 

Compel  the  man  to  exercise  discretion  ! 

That  useful  gift  was  not  in  his  possession ! 

Rough,  mountain  lands  soon  rose  athwart  our  way, 
And  weary  looks,  the  "  mulas  "  did  display. 
Four  puny  brutes,  half  starved,  but  finely  matched 
In  stubbornness,  were  to  each  coach  attached. 

A  sailor-boy  we  found  upon  the  way, 

Who,  as  he  said,  was  bound  for  Virgin  Bay. 

The  Uncle  Sam  he  'd  left,  the  previous  night, 

With  strong  desire,  in  Walker's  cause  to  fight. 

A  runaway,  he  'd  taken  care  to  hide, 

And  secretly  his  arms  had  been  supplied. 

But,  ah !  poor  Jack,  a  sad,  untimely  fate 

Stole  o'er  his  path,  and  for  his  life  laid  wait. 

Powder,  and  scouring  sand,  are  not  alike ; 

A  service-rifle,  not  a  marline  spike. 

To  chide  each  act  of  carelessness,  was  vain ; 

His  gun  discharged — the  ball  passed  through  his  brain. 

So  swift  the  missile's  work, — no  word  he  said ; 

No  sound  escaped  his  lips ; — life  instant  fled. 

The  day  was  warm,  but,  breezes  gently  blew, 
And  graceful  waved  the  palm-tree,  and  the  yew. 
Her  thousand  varied  notes,  glad  nature  sang, 
In  silent  voice,  that  through  our  feelings  rang. 
Yet,  discord  sad,  her  echoed  music  made, 
For,  round  each  heart  had  fallen  a  dreary  shade. 
Bright  smiling  hills,  on  either  side  arise, 
Yet,  round  their  laughing  summits,  in  disguise, 


55 


Fierce,  hireling  squads  of  base  Chamorro's  band, 

To  roll  in  squalid  avalanche,  might  stand. 

Sweet,  spicy  groves,  and  shady  dells  appear, 

From  whose  recess,  no  wafted  sound  we  hear, 

Save  the  low  chanting  of  the  zephyr  breeze, 

Whose  gentle  touch  draws  music  from  the  trees ; 

Yet,  there  might  lurk  a  sanguinary  foe, 

Concealed  in  ambush,  cat-like,  crouching  low. 

By  no  means  groundless,  such  surmises  dire ; 

For  there,  in  truth,  the  Serviles,  two  days  prior, 

A  sad  defeat  had  met,  at  Walker's  hand, 

And  lost  in  combat  ninety  of  their  band. 

Thence  put  to  flight,  they  roamed  the  forest  wide, 

In  petty  squads,  from  sharp  pursuit  to  hide. 

Our  guides  had  said,  that  naught  could  happen  wrong, 

As  the  Liberal  cause  was  fixed,  and  strong. 

That  east,  and  west,  across  the  Transit  way, 

They  held  a  settled,  undisputed  sway. 

Thus,  lulled  to  sleep,  all  fear  of  coming  harm, 

Scarce  any  one  had  thought  it  best  to  arm. 

Yet,  now,  full  soon,  we  found  sufficient  cause, 

To  deem  ourselves  within  a  lion's  claws. 

'Mid  noon-day's  sun,  and  light's  departing  ray, 
In  silver  beams  stole  o'er  our  lonesome  way. 
Bright  joyous  smiles  that  lit  the  liquid  face 
Of  Nicaragua's  lake,  the  Queen  of  Grace. 
But,  scattered  thick  around  us  did  appear, 
Sad  records,  mute,  but  eloquent  and  clear, 
Of  mortal  woe ;  each  tree  a  graven  page  ; 
Each  foot  of  ground,  a  chronicle  of  rage. 
A  tale  was  told,  that,  ere  the  bloody  fray, 
Beside  a  tree  where  blackened  embers  lav, 


56 


A  volunteer,  fast  bound  by  cruel  gyve, 

Base,  Servile  hands  had  tortured, — burned  alive. 

We  entered,  soon,  the  village  Virgin  Bay, 
Where,  on  the  lake,  the  boat  La  Virgin  lay. 

The  little  town  beside  the  water  lies, 
And  views  the  lake,  upon  whose  bosom  rise, 
The  Sister  Mountains,  lofty,  side  by  side, 
Like  peerless  queens,  upon  the  waves  to  ride. 

The  signal  bell  soon  calls  us  down  the  street, 
To  water's  edge,  the  steamer's  boat  to  meet  j 
And,  soon  upon  La  Virgin's  deck  we  stand, 
When  each,  in  thought,  perceives  his  native  land, 
Not  far  away,  spread  out  before  his  gaze, 
In  tints  of  gold,  illumed  by  fancy's  rays. 
But,  ah !  full  many  a  heart  now  beating  high 
With  joyous  hope,  is  destined  soon  to  lie 
In  death's  embrace,  in  mould'ring  slumber  low, 
In  clods  of  earth,  or  'neath  the  water's  flow. 
Why  wait  we  here  ?     Sure  all  is  ready  now. 
Why  hugs  the  shore  the  boat's  impatient  prow  ? 
Now,  o'er  the  deck,  a  look  we  cast  around, 
That  gave  to  vague  suspicion,  ample  ground. 
Six  cannons  grim,  about  her  sides  were  wheeled, 
All  cleared  her  deck,  as  for  a  battle  field. 
Yet,  "  true,"  thought  we,  "  the  guns  'tis  wise  to  take, 
We  may,  perchance,  meet  cruisers  on  the  lake." 
A  fillibuster  sad,  the  steamer  was, 
And  might  be  seized,  with  justifying  cause ; 
Then,  Servile  knaves,  who,  stain  of  mercy  lacked, 
And  scarce  possessed  discriminating  tact, 


57 


Might  chance  to  cut  our  throats,  by  some  mistake, 
Or,  shoot  us  through  the  head,  for  pleasure's  sake. 

While  restlessly,  all  moved  in  silence,  dumb, 
A  cry  we  sudden  heard,  "  The  soldiers  come  !  " 
And,  gazing  backward  o'er  the  Transit  way, 
Beheld  them  marching  in  the  twilight  gray. 
They  soon  embarked,  and  joined  us  on  the  boat  • 
But,  of  their  destination, — not  a  note. 
The  boat  then  moved  upon  her  'customed  way, 
With  rapid  stride,  atoning  for  delay. 

Upon  the  steamer's  deck,  we  pass  the  night  j 
Yet,  ere  return  the  rays  of  morning  light, 
A  shrill  command,  in  startling  tones  addressed, 
Pierces  our  ears,  and  breaks  our  quiet  rest. 
"  Clear  now  the  boat  for  action  !  "   is  the  cry  ; 
And,  starting  up,  the  doughty  French,  we  spy. 
All  quick  arise,  to  face  a  frowning  foe, 
Or  danger  dire,  in  what,  they  scarcely  know ; 
Armada  dread,  or  frowning  Seventy-four, 
In  fancy  see,  and  hear  its  deaf  ning  roar. 
But,  lo !  naught  on  the  dim  expanse  appears, 
The  mystery  to  solve,  or  waken  fears. 
But,  day-light  soon  dissolved  the  misty  shade, 
Night's  cast-off  robe,  and  quickly  then  displayed 
San  Carlos  Fort,  the  San  Juan  beside, 
Which  river  serves  the  flowing  lake  to  guide. 
No  more  could  falsehood  serve  ;  so  truth  was  told ; 
For  Walker's  service,  clearly,  we  were  sold. 
"  San  Carlos  Fort,  the  natives  now  possess. 
Her  frowning  walls  we  may  not  pass,  unless, 
8 


58 


With  us  you  join,  and  force  her  guns  to  yield. 

We  Ve  arms  in  store ;  if  them  you  choose  to  wield 

In  self-defence,  the  fortress  we  can  wrest, 

And  shoot  the  knaves  who  now  her  walls  invest. 

In  self-defence,  we  say,  in  honest  truth. 

Pass  on  our  way !  yon  savages,  forsooth, 

With  rascal  cannonade,  would  sink  us  low 

On  the  wat'ry  bed  of  the  river's  flow. 

But,  say  you  now,  had  we  not  compromised 

A  safe  result,  by  purposes  disguised, 

And  lawless  company,  against  your  will, 

You  'd  safe  have  passed,  without  a  thought  of  ill. 

You  wide  mistake  this  sanguinary  foe. 

Pass  by  their  hostile  battlements  !    No,  no  ! 

To  seize  these  boats,  the  savages  are  bent. 

Attempt  to  pass,  and,  speedily  you  're  sent, 

To  sleep  with  the  pebbles  beneath  the  lake ; 

The  sleep  of  death,  from  which  none  ever  wake. 

You  ask  us  now :    l  Though  this  were  truly  so, 

Was  truth  too  true  for  passengers  to  know  ? ' 

The  answer  is :  We  acted  for  the  best. 

Submit  the  case  to  common  reason's  test. 

Had  all  been  told,  their  safety  was  not  sure ; 

That,  in  their  path,  were  dangers  to  endure, 

Who,  then,  had  left  the  wharf  at  Virgin  Bay  ? 

Fewer,  by  far,  than  who  had  wished  to  stay. 

Yet,  wherefore  stay,  with  danger  no  less  dire, 

From  Cholera,  or  skulking  demon's  fire  ? 

Plain  is  the  truth :  as  convoy  we  are  come ; 

To  guard  your  path  upon  the  passage  home. 

So,  join  us,  if  you  will,  or  yet,  refuse ; 

You  're  free  to  act :  your  province  'tis  to  choose. 


59 


Yet,  mark  you  well :  though  we  may  act  alone, 

Your  lives,  with  ours,  must  for  defeat  atone." 

Though  for  occasion  framed,  this  story  seemed, 

Some  rays  of  truth,  'mid  denser  falsehood  gleamed. 

To  aid  their  cause,  the  Liberals  had  seized 

The  Transit  boats,  whene'er  their  fancy  pleased. 

'T  was  not  for  ours,  but  for  the  boat's  protection, 

They  'd  dogged  our  steps,  and  formed  this  ill  connection. 

Yet,  true  it  was,  though  danger  lurked  ahead, 

At  Virgin  Bay,  lay  dangers  no  less  dread. 

A  question  now  was  promptly  to  be  met, 
With  fruitful  possibilities  beset. 
Contingencies,  teeming  with  good  or  ill ; 
With  seeming  choice,  yet  necessary,  still. 
Upon  the  boat,  as  she  to  battle  goes, 
Must  we  lie  still,  while  life's  red  current  flows  ? 
Beneath  the  deck,  pale,  helpless  women  lie ; 
Shall  we  supinely  lay  us  down  to  die  ? 
To  take  the  proifered  arms,  we  gave  consent, 
With  scarce  a  voice  to  utter  discontent. 
Grave  was  the  step,  for,  fillibusters,  now, 
To  outlaws'  fate,  if  luckless,  we  must  bow. 

Upon  a  hill,  beside  the  river's  source, 
San  Carlos  stood,  to  guard  its  winding  course ; 
And,  save  this  hill,  with  one  upon  its  right, 
No  landing-place  there  broke  upon  our  sight. 
For,  all  beside  is  low  and  marshy  ground, 
With  thicket  dense,  and  dismal  jungle  bound. 
Both  little  hills  rise  on  the  river's  left, 
Like  orphans  lone,  from  all  their  kindred  reft. 


60 


To  cannon's  range,  we  neared  the  fortress  hill, 
When,  in  a  boat,  though  quite  against  his  will, 
Our  steamer's  captain  carried  to  the  land, 
A  formal  charge  the  fortress  to  demand. 
The  shore  he  reached,  but  came  not  back  again. 
Reply  to  give,  the  natives  did  not  deign. 
Quick  to  and  fro  their  dusky  gunners  flew, 
Then  o'er  the  lake  a  cannon-shot  they  threw. 
A  thirty-two,  the  missile  seemed  to  be, — 
Naught  heavier  than  eighteen  pounds,  had  we. 
So,  quick  'twas  thought  more  prudent  to  retire, 
Than  madly  stay,  and  brave  their  rascal  fire. 
Our  quiet  call  they  haughtily  had  spurned, 
And  speedily  the  compliment  returned. 

As  now  we  moved,  their  deadly  guns  to  clear, 
Another  ball,  well  aimed,  came  bounding  near. 
With  giant  stride,  in  threat'ning  haste  it  came, 
But,  haply  fell,  to  sink  beside  its  game. 
With  feelings,  mixed,  of  pleasure,  and  of  fear, 
We  gazed  to  see  each  cannon's  smoke  appear. 
First,  columns  dense  of  silent  vapor  flow, 
When,  bursting  forth,  red  fiery  volumes  glow, 
And,  'mid  the  flame,  out  leaps  the  angry  ball 
From  cannon's  mouth,  upon  the  waves  to  fall. 
From  thence  repelled,  a  frightful  bound  it  makes, 
Descends  again,  again  a  curvet  takes. 
The  tardy  sound  then  ambles  on  apace, 
Outstrips  the  ball,  and  easy  wins  the  race. 

Now  bearing  left,  to  clear  the  fortress  guns, 
Our  heedless  boat,  athwart  new  danger  runs. 


61 


Yon  wood-crowned  height,  San  Carlos'  sister  hill, 

All  quiet  lay,  deceitfully,  until 

Her  range  we  neared,  when,  guns  before  concealed, 

Sprang  into  view,  and  belching  music  pealed. 

But,  '  haste  made  waste ; '  her  balls,  correctly  aimed 

Their  mark  to  strike,  were  by  the  waters  tamed. 

Of  passengers,  but  few  were  now  averse 

A  fight  to  join,  but  willing  to  amerce 

A  recompense  for  jeopardy  in  strife, 

By  mulct  assessed  in  currency  of  life. 

Yet,  some  there  were,  of  apprehensive  mind, 

Who  murmured  low,  to  fate  but  ill  resigned. 

One  cautious  man,  when  urged  to  join  the  scheme, 

With  timid  face  lit  up  in  hopeful  gleam, 

In  anxious  tone  proceeded  to  inquire : 

"Will  they  shoot  back  when  we  begin  to  fire  ?" 

"0,  certainly !  they'll  pay  us  back  our  coin." 

"  Ah  !  well,"  he  gravely  said,  "  then  I  shan't  join." 

So  ludicrous,  the  colloquy  thus  held, 

All  rueful  thought  was  instantly  dispelled. 

Loud  peals  of  laughter  broke  from  all  around, 

And  left  each  mind  an  echo  of  their  sound. 

Intent  to  gain  possession  of  the  hill, 
Full  forty  men,  in  boats,  with  ready  will, 
With  rifles  and  revolvers,  fitly  armed, 
Now  left  the  steamer's  side,  which  quick  alarmed 
The  garrison  who  held  San  Carlos  height. 
And  down  they  came,  our  volunteers  to  fight. 
This  sudden  move  was  not  to  our  desire ; 
So,  bearing  down,  in  haste,  we  opened  fire 


62 


Upon  the  fort,  to  draw  her  men  again. 
But,  all  our  guns  were  brought  to  bear  in  vain ; 
For,  when  discharged,  their  balls  flew  not  away, 
The  fort  to  scathe,  but,  to  our  great  dismay, 
Upon  the  waves  fell  quick  to  disappear, 
When  loud  we  heard  the  native  wretches  jeer. 

Their  force  entire,  three  hundred  men,  or  more, 
In  grim  array,  now  lined  a  hostile  shore. 
The  boats,  midway,  were  boldly  pushing  on, 
While  toward  the  fort,  discharging  guns  anon. 
Our  steamer  swiftly  pressed,  all  hands  alert, 
Some  quite  alarmed,  but  no  one  badly  hurt. 
One  Irishman  who  moodily  sat  by, 
Thus  to  his  thoughts  gave  language  with  a  sigh : 
"  Ah  !  soon  will  blaze  their  cannon's  red'iiing  glow, 
Then,  sure  ye'll  see  the  blood  begin  to  flow." 
With  downcast  look,  another  paced  the  deck 
Like  a  storm-bound  mariner  doomed  to  wreck. 
"  Alas  ! "  said  he,  "  my  wife,  and  children  wait 
For  him  whose  steps  are  turned  aside  by  fate. 
With  anxious  gaze  the  mother  looks,  in  vain, 
For  him  whose  face  she  ne'er  shall  see  again. 
My  children  dear,  trip  lightly  as  the  fawn, 
In  hope  to  meet  their  father  o'er  the  lawn. 
But  ah  !  they  turn,  with  saddened  faces,  home, 
To  shroud  a  mother's  heart  in  deeper  gloom. 
Dread  poverty  a  widow's  cup  shall  fill ; 
The  fatherless  must  drain  the  dregs  of  ill." 
Deep  now  is  heard  the  distant  tempest's  sigh, 
And,  suddenly,  dark  clouds  o'erspread  the  sky. 
For  full  an  hour  the  angry  tempest  roars, 
The  billows  toss,  a  blinding  torrent  pours. 


63 


No  boats  nor  shore,  no  natives  now  appear ; 

By  gloom  obscured,  no  frowning  ramparts  rear. 

The  boat  is  checked  ;  but,  elements  enraged, 

Our  foe  have  joined,  and  in  the  strife  engaged. 

Aghast  we  stand,  beneath  the  tempest's  pow'r, 

Whose  watr'y  jaws  now  threaten  to  devour 

Our  absent  boats ;  but,  soon  old  Nature  flies ; 

Withdraws  her  forces,  bids  her  legions  rise ; 

And  distant,  then,  approaching  from  the  lee, 

The  missing  ones,  our  bold  recruits  we  see, 

As,  wearily  and  slow,  they  drag  along, 

With  sinking  boats,  and  faces  woe-begone. 

Ere  they  could  touch  upon  that  hostile  land, 

The  storm  had  poured  upon  their  little  band ; 

When  quick  o'erwhelmed  amid  the  falling  tide, 

'T  was  vain  to  move,  for,  naught  their  way  could  guide. 

Another  consultation  now  is  held, 

Which  quick  decides,  by  circumstance  compelled, 

The  scheme  to  drop,  and  sail  without  delay, 

Across  the  lake,  again,  to  Virgin  Bay. 

'T  was  not  for  lack  of  fortitude  possessed, 

The  plan  had  failed  San  Carlos  to  invest ; 

For,  braver  men  than  formed  that  lawless  crew, 

The  wildest  page  of  story  never  knew. 

Our  cannon-balls  had  proved  to  be  too  small ; 

This  fact  explained  their  very  speedy  fall. 

Another  truth  lay  not  at  all  concealed  : 

The  steamer's  hull  quite  easily  would  yield 

To  cannon-shot,  for,  made  of  iron  thin, 

Her  strength  would  fail,  and  let  the  missiles  in. 

Then  woe  to  us,  should  some  unlucky  shot, 

On  evil  bent,  pierce  through  the  boilers  hot. 


The  women,  too,  their  faces  blanched  with  fright, 
Imploringly  had  said,  "  0,  do  not  fight !" 

Bold  French  and  Fry,  now  brilliant  speeches  made, 

Quite  plausible,  with  arguments  arrayed, 

To  prove  their  course  a  philanthrophic  plan 

To  elevate  a  lower  race  of  man. 

This  lofty  aim  had  moved  their  noble  feet 

From  peaceful  homes,  and  caused  their  hearts  to  beat 

In  kindly  sympathy ;  their  souls  inspired 

With  high  resolve,  and  noble  impulse,  fired. 

Like  La  Fayette,  they'd  nobly  volunteered 

For  liberty,  where  tyrants  domineered. 

A  glorious  few,  devoted  to  the  cause 

Of  snatching  men  from  foul  Oppression's  claws. 

So  free  their  hearts  from  ev'ry  thought  of  guile, 

Angelic  hosts  might  well  look  down,  and  smile. 

Naught  else  but  good,  had  brought  this  precious  band 

From  happy  homes,  to  roam  a  foreign  land. 

The  sun  was  low ;  't  was  near  the  close  of  day, 
When  o'er  the  lake  we  sailed,  for  Virgin  Bay. 
There,  with  the  dead  of  night,  to  get  ashore, 
All  crowded  out,  and  thought  of  nothing  more, 
Till,  gazing  back  upon  the  moonlit  bay, 
We  saw  our  convoy  sailing  fast  away. 
Thus  left  were  we,  defenceless  and  alone, 
Our  Great-Hearts  gone,  our  kind  protectors  flown. 

The  night  passed  on,  and  day  began  to  break, 
When,  dim  in  distance  o'er  the  placid  lake, 
A  boat  appeared,  fast  heading  into  port, 
Apparently  from  old  San  Carlos  fort. 


65 


All  eyes  were  turned  with  scrutinizing  gaze, 
And,  in  some  bosoms,  hope  began  to  raise. 
The  stranger  boat  arrived,  arid  proved  to  be 
San  Carlos,  named,  which  filled  us  full  of  glee. 
Now  these  had  passed  the  fortress  walls  secure, 
That  we  might  safely  pass,  seemed  likewise  sure. 
But,  very  brief  such  happiness,  for,  lo ! 
They  quickly  told  a  dismal  tale  of  woe : 
With  noontide's  sun  upon  the  previous  day, 
While  t)ff  the  fort,  we  in  La  Virgin  lay, 
The  boat,  San  Carlos,  braved  the  San  Juan, 
As,  slow  and  sure  against  the  tide  she  ran. 
Unconscious,  quite,  of  all  that  had  occurred, 
They  passed  the  fort,  when  quick  commanding  word 
The  natives  gave,  and  gruffly  bade  them  stay. 
This,  lucklessly,  they  dared  to  disobey, 
When  instant  belched  an  angry  thirty-two, 
Whose  deadly  missile  pierced  the  steamer  through. 
From  cannon's  mouth  a  quick  descent  it  made, 
But  rose  again  in  added  strength  arrayed, 
Passed  through  the  boat  as  through  a  paper  toy  j 
Two  lives  destroyed,  and  maimed  a  little  boy. 
The  boat  was  stopped ;  a  native  posse  came, 
Expecting  there  to  find  exquisite  game. 
But,  high  and  low,  in  vain  a  search  was  made ; 
She  carried  naught  for  filibuster  aid. 
So,  quietly  the  searching  troop  withdrew, 
And  left  the  boat  her  journey  to  pursue. 

Full  sad  the  tale  of  those  who  suffered  there, 
A  wife  and  mother,  with  her  children  fair. 
9 


66 


A  lovely  girl  whose  age  five  summers  told, 
A  little  boy,  then  scarcely  six  years  old. 
They'd  left  their  home,  the  far  off  west  to  greet, 
The  husband  and  the  father,  there  to  meet. 
Within  her  berth  the  happy  mother  lay, 
While  by  her  side  the  children  were  at  play ; 
But,  swiftly  on  its  direful  mission  came 
The  cannon  ball,  arid,  such  its  deadly  aim, 
From  larboard  bow,  it  pierced  the  upper  deck, 
Of  all  that  interposed  made  instant  wreck ; 
Passed  through  the  berth  wherein  the  mother  lay, 
Her  life  destroyed, — tore  limb  from  limb  away  j 
The  daughter  slew,  and  pilfered,  as  it  left, 
The  boy's  right  foot, — sad,  sanguinary  theft ! 
Still  resistless,  on  it  madly  went, 
Till,  far  away  upon  the  lake  it  spent. 
With  strangers,  now,  all  friendless  and  alone, 
The  wounded  boy  was  left  to  wail  and  moan; 
But,  on  a  litter,  carried  o'er  the  way, 
He  lived  to  enter  San  Francisco  Bay. 

California  passengers  passed  on, 
And  we  were  left,  our  fate  to  muse  upon. 
'T  was  ascertained,  that,  very  close  at  hand, 
Nine  miles  away,  at  Rivas,  was  a  band, 
Eight  hundred  strong,  of  Chamorrista  braves, 
Who,  well  we  knew,  would  gladly  dig  our  graves. 
More  willingly,  if  yet  by  chance  they  knew 
That  we  so  late  had  joined  a  hostile  crew. 

Some  now  desired  San  Carlos  boat  to  take, 
And  once  again,  cross  eastward  o'er  the  lake. 


67 


But  others  said,  "  'T  were  folly  thus  to  go 
Athwart  their  path,  so  wittingly  to  throw 
Our  lives  away,  or  poise  them  in  the  scale, 
With  native  mercy,  hoping  to  prevail." 

The  day  passed  on ;  low  in  the  west,  the  sun 

All  cloudless  sank,  his  race  of  glory  run. 

In  anxious  groups,  the  passengers  conversed, 

Their  hopes  and  fears,  their  future  plans  rehearsed ; 

While  'neath  the  roof  by  company  possessed, 

Were  gathering,  full  many,  there  to  rest. 

The  house  was  low ;  damp  earth  its  only  floor ; 

One  story  high,  and  through  each  end  a  door. 

A  stairway  rose,  within,  upon  the  right, 

Ascending  to  its  second-story  height, 

Another  pile,  the  company's  estate, 

In  which,  below,  were  vehicles  and  freight. 

Around  the  rear,  a  spacious  yard  was  laid, 

Three  sides  enclosed  by  fence,  or  palisade. 

Old  Night  came  on ;  her  deep'ning  shadows  fell 
In  rayless  gloom,  that  blackened  hill,  and  dell. 
The  stars  shone  not,  nor  Luna  gave  her  light ; 
Dark,  threat'ning  clouds  enhanced  the  gloom  of  night. 
All  hushed  was  nature's  voice ;  the  air  was  calm, 
Though  softly  waved  the  gentle  zephyr's  arm. 
Some  passengers  were  roaming  through  the  town, 
And  many  more,  outside,  were  sitting  down. 
But  greater,  still,  the  number  gathered  in 
Beneath  the  lower  roof,  with  busy  din, 
Preparing  for  the  night ;  some  lying  down, 
Invoking  sleep,  solicitude  to  drown ; 


68 


While  scattering  groups  in  moody  silence  stood, 

Or  low  conversed,  to  augur  ill,  or  good. 

The  feeble  rays  of  churlish  tapers  dim, 

Came  straggling  forth,  from  murky  lanterns,  grim, 

When,  lo !  a  sound  of  tramping,  and  a  yell, — 

A  hideous  sound,  as  from  a  demon,  fell. 

Then  followed,  quick,  a  shout  of  savage  glee, 

As  from  a  host  of  prisoned  imps  set  free, — 

The  doorway  swarmed  with  savage  musketeers, 

And  deaf 'ning  sounds  of  weapons  filled  our  ears ; 

When,  'mid  the  smoke  and  fire,  poured  in  a  show'r 

Of  musket  balls,  with  swift  and  fatal  pow'r, — 

Deep  groans  of  pain,  with  accents  of  despair, 

Commingled,  all,  rose  on  the  midnight  air. 

One  man,  engaged  in  conversation  low, 

Close  by  my  side,  deep  groaned  in  mortal  woe, — 

Fell  prostrate  on  that  humid,  earthy  floor, 

With  ghastly  wound,  to  welter  in  his  gore. 

No  tongue  can  tell,  no  pen  can  e'er  portray 

That  scene  of  death,  of  horror  and  dismay. 

The  sleepers  rose  in  terror  from  the  ground, 

From  dreams  of  woe,  to  see  their  visions  crowned. 

Many  who  rose,  back  quickly  fell  again, 

To  print  the  earth  with  many  a  crimson  stain. 

Low  on  the  ground,  myself  in  haste  I  threw, 

While  thick  around,  the  whizzing  bullets  flew ; 

But,  to  and  fro,  the  mass  in  frenzy  rolled, 

Arid  quick  increased  their  shrieks  of  woe,  ten  fold ; 

For,  in  the  rear,  from  whence  they  sought  to  go, 

Again  they  met  the  sanguinary  foe, 

Who  drove  them  back,  with  yells  of  fierce  delight ; 

Then,  up  the  stairs  they  took  a  hasty  flight. 


69 


Meanwhile,  without,  o'er  savage  howls  arose 
The  cries  of  men,  pursued  by  bloody  foes. 
Defenceless,  all,  life  worthless  seemed,  and  lost ; 
And  hope  was  vain,  to  sell  them  at  a  cost. 
While  prostrate,  there,  upon  the  ground  I  lay, 
All  motionless,  and  cold  as  passive  clay, 
Swift-moving  Thought  had  travelled  far  and  wide, 
Passed  land  and  sea,  with  one  prodigious  stride, 
O'erlooked  the  scenes  of  childhood's  happy  hours, 
Roamed  o'er  the  hills,  and  culled  the  wildwood  flowers. 
Then,  0,  the  pang,  when  back  she  came  again, 
And  sadly  said,  "  Resign  all  hope,  as  vain ! 
Though  hard  the  fate,  inhale  thy  latest  breath, 
For,  lo  !  beside  thee  stands  the  monster  Death." 

Incessant  flowed  a  stream  of  lead  and  fire ; 
The  bullets  sped,  and  crashed,  with  fearful  ire. 
Above,  below,  pierced  ev'ry  side  around, 
And  baggage  all,  piled  high  upon  the  ground. 
But,  soon  was  spent  the  fury  of  attack  ; 
The  knaves  had  found  material  for  sack. 
Then  quick  upsprang,  who  like  myself  had  lain, 
Low  on  the  ground,  all  breathless  as  the  slain, 
Three  passengers,  and  ran  with  nimble  pace, 
To  join  the  crowd  within  their  refuge  place ; 
And  to  their  flight,  my  own  was  added  soon, 
With  eager  step,  to  gain  protection's  boon. 
'Mid  random  fire,  the  loft  we  gained,  unharmed, 
When,  lo  !  a  sight  that  feeble  hope  alarmed. 
Pale,  deathlike  men  we  saw  assembled  there, 
Like  marble  statues,  lit  by  candles'  glare. 
Cold,  glassy  eyes  from  rigid  features  gazed, 
And  on  each  head  the  quiv'ring  hair  upraised. 


70 


Still,  others  moved,  with  silent,  ghost-like  tread, 

Believing  scarce  that  life  had  not  yet  fled  j 

And  many  more,  with  groans  of  pain  and  woe, 

There  sought  to  staunch  the  crimson  current's  flow, 

From  ghastly  wounds,  that  yet  profusely  bled, 

Smearing  them  o'er  with  blood,  from  foot  to  head. 

None  hoped  for  life  ;  each  face  spoke  blank  despair  • 

Death  seemed  to  claim  a  kindred  with  the  air. 

But  timid  Thought,  though  first  to  fly  away, 

Had  rallied  soon  to  claim  her  house  of  clay. 

Grim  savages,  we  knew  our  foes  to  be, 

Yet,  pris'ners  close,  'twere  vain,  the  hope  to  flee. 

Of  all  our  band,  but  two,  alone,  possessed 

Defensive  means,  yet,  well  they  bore  the  test 

Of  courage  true ;  for,  powder  none  had  they, 

Save  what  within  their  trusty  weapons  lay. 

Revolvers  drawn,  by  firmness  doubly  manned, 

They  by  the  staircase  boldly  took  a  stand, 

Resolved  to  die,  defending  to  the  last, 

Their  lives,  and  manhood,  menaced  by  the  blast 

That  fiercely  howled,  with  life-destroying  sound, 

And  close  beset  their  prison  walls  around. 

No  savages  had  yet  in  sight  appeared, 

But,  far  more  dread  a  danger  now  we  feared. 

'T  would  well  become  their  sanguinary  fame, 

To  fire  the  house,  and  shoot  us  through  the  flame. 

A  company,  myself  with  other  two, 

Now  searched,  in  hope  to  break  our  prison  through. 

With  silent  step,  two  rooms  were  quickly  passed, 

As  on  each  side  a  searching  glance  was  cast, 

For  avenues  that  might  perchance  be  near, 

To  penetrate  the  building  to  its  rear. 


71 


A  narrow  way  at  last  we  chanced  to  spy, 
That  outward  led  upon  a  balcon  high, 
On  which  went  out,  myself,  and  one  beside, 
Resolved  to  flee,  or,  failure  to  abide. 
Without  the  door,  in  silent  pace  we  stepped, 
As  stealthily,  on  hands  and  knees,  then  crept. 
Across  the  building's  rear,  from  side  to  side, 
The  balcony  was  laid,  but  not  supplied, 
As  soon  we  found,  with  stairway  to  descend, 
Nor  colonnade,  with  friendly  posts  to  lend. 

With  human  woe,  still  rang  the  ev'ning  air, 

Some  begging  life,  some  wailing  in  despair, 

While  tramp  of  horse,  and  rider's  brutal  cry, 

With  discord  dire,  resounded  in  reply. 

With  wary  eye,  around  the  balcon's  right 

A  glance  we  cast,  when  saw  a  fearful  sight, — 

In  close  pursuit,  a  band  of  natives  ran, 

With  passengers  swift  flying  in  the  van. 

Another  squad  had  gathered  close  around 

A  murdered  man,  there  stretched  upon  the  ground ; 

And  o'er  the  corse,  those  grim  assassins  fought, 

To  share  the  gold  their  bloody  knives  had  bought. 

Now  peering  o'er  the  balcon's  railing  low, 

With  deep  dismay,  within  the  yard  below, 

A  sentinel  we  saw,  there  placed  on  guard, 

To  intercept  all  passing  through  the  yard. 

But,  happily,  thick  clouds  were  o'er  the  sky, 

And  through  their  gloom  he  had  not  chanced  to  spy 

Our  lurking-place,  for,  while  reflected  light 

His  post  revealed,  it  dimmed  his  clearer  sight. 


72 


Beyond  one  side,  and  round  the  building's  end, 

A  passage-way  did  to  the  street  extend ; 

Where  window  lights  their  bright  reflection  made, 

The  passage  lit,  threw  us  in  deeper  shade. 

No  word  we  spoke,  but  silent  groped  our  way; 

No  sound  was  made  that  might  our  lives  betray. 

The  ground  below,  in  distance  twenty  feet, 

Quick  might  we  reach,  but,  jumping,  death  must  meet. 

We  might,  perchance,  alight  in  safety  there, 

Yet,  with  the  guard  not  quite  so  easy  fare. 

The  balcony  we  quickly  crossed  again, 

With  trembling  hopes  that  fast  began  to  wane, 

When  looking  o'er  the  railing  at  the  side, 

Below  the  balcony,  a  brace  we  spied. 

Companion,  first,  the  rail  sprang  lightly  o'er, 

And,  quick  ensconced  beneath  the  structure's  floor, 

An  effort  made,  the  yard  below  to  gain, 

But,  soon  returning,  called  the  project  vain. 

Then,  scarce  in  hope  for  fortune's  better  aid, 

The  brace  I  gained ;  the  same  attempt  then  made. 

Suspended  now,  full  fifteen  feet  in  air, 

I  thought  to  drop ;  on  what,  knew  not,  nor  where, 

When,  scarce  two  feet  below,  upon  the  right, 

The  lower  roof  appeared,  a  welcome  sight. 

A  sudden  swing  the  object  then  obtained, 

A  noiseless  fall, — the  tile-laid  roof  was  gained. 

Now  looking  back,  to  bid  my  comrade  haste, 

No  one  appeared,  and  moments  must  not  waste ; 

For  time  was  life,  and  death  might  crown  delay. 

This  prudent  thought  forbade  me  longer  stay. 

Night's  sable  hue  had  deepened  with  her  hours, 
Arid  airy  hosts  were  marshalling  their  pow'rs. 


73 


Old  Darkness,  soon,  his  deepest  robe  had  flung 
O'er  nature's  lovely  form,  and  silent  hung 
His  blackest  drapery  o'er  hill  and  dale, 
O'er  mountain  top,  and  through  the  lonely  vale. 
Full  dire  the  thought,  as  down  the  roof  I  crept, 
That  now,  perchance,  destruction  only  slept 
Coiled  serpent-like,  and  prone  upon  my  path, 
Full  soon  to  wake,  and  spend  his  venom  wrath. 

A  dark  abyss  now  met  my  eager  gaze, 

And  straining  eyes  were  vain  to  pierce  the  maze. 

A  moment's  pause, — then  springing  through  the  gloom 

For  aught  apparent,  hasting  on  to  doom, 

By  fortune's  aid  I  safely  reached  the  ground, 

When,  casting  quick  a  searching  glance  around, 

Beheld  a  sight  that  chilled  my  blood  with  fear. 

Within  the  doorway  at  the  building's  rear, 

Another  guard,  a  brawny  savage  paced, 

While  'neath  the  roof  a  gang  were  laying  waste 

The  baggage,  all,  with  freedom  uncontrolled, 

With  clumsy  haste,  in  greedy  search  for  gold. 

Yet  undiscovered,  hastily  I  ran, 

With  scarce  the  thought  a  proper  course  to  plan, 

And,  fortunately,  gained  the  palisade, 

But  found  it  quite  too  high  for  escalade. 

Quick  turning,  then  with  feelings  of  dismay, 

And  fearful  lest,  my  purpose  to  betray, 

With  passive  treachery  the  very  air 

Should  to  the  foe  each  silent  footstep  bear, 

With  fearful  haste  an  aperture  I  sought, 

Hope  sinking  fast,  each  step  with  danger  fraught. 

Yet  now  appeared,  when  heart  began  to  fail, 

An  open  space  where  lay  a  broken  pale. 
10 


74 

This  passing  through,  I  gained  the  woodland  near, 
Nor  had  the  thought,  escape  might  prove  too  dear. 

With  shouts  of  natives,  still  the  forest  rang, 

Pursuers,  all,  in  many  a  petty  gang ; 

While  heavy  clouds  began  to  cast  their  store ; 

With  open  hands  their  ill-timed  gifts  to  pour. 

Long  'mid  the  rain,  there,  in  that  forest  wide, 

Alone,  I  sought  from  sharp  pursuit  to  hide. 

Loud  voices  raised,  a  friendly  tone  to  feign : 

"All's  right,  now,  boys  !  come  back  to  town  again !" 

But,  Spanish  accent  boded  not  of  good : 

'T  was  plain  a  ruse  to  draw  us  from  the  wood. 

Wandering  round,  a  voice  at  last  I  heard, 

In  whispered  tone,  that  spoke  a  magic  word : 

"  American  are  you  ?  "  it  softly  said, 

In  accent  fraught  with  mingled  hope,  and  dread. 

Rejoiced  to  note  a  friendly  voice  so  near, 
And  speaking  low  that  foemen  might  not  hear, 
I  nearer  drew,  the  whispered  tones  my  guide, 
When,  lo !  there  sat  together  side  by  side, 
Three  passengers  close  round  a  dwarfish  tree, 
Half  dead  with  fright,  who  gladly  welcomed  me. 
Each  had  a  tale  full  marvelous  to  tell, 
And  all  agreed,  't  was  luck  to  fare  so  well. 
Soon  from  a  tree-top  down  came  other  two, 
And  joined  our  little  band,  which  rapid  grew, 
Till,  ere  an  hour,  it  numbered  twelve,  in  all, 
Of  ev'ry  age,  of  sizes,  great  and  small. 

We  now  discussed,  an  action  to  pursue, 
But  each  had  plans,  and  projects,  not  a  few. 


75 


Each  thought  his  own  had  quite  the  brightest  look ; 

So,  long  we  argued  ere  an  action  took. 

"  To  San  Juan/'  some  said,  "  T  is  best  to  go," 

But  to  this  project  others  answered :  "  No  1 

For,  on  the  way  quite  sure  are  we  to  find 

Each  road-side  hedge  with  straggling  natives  lined. 

'T  is  wiser,  far,  here  in  the  wood  to  stay, 

And  lay  our  plans  by  clearer  light  of  day." 

The  night  was  warm,  but  fast  the  chilling  rain 
Cold  o'er  us  fell,  to  make  our  danger  twain ; 
For  Cholera  had  stretched  his  ghastly  hand, 
To  sweep  and  scourge  with  death  that  fairy  land. 
And  ev'ry  blast  must  serve  to  haste  his  sway, 
Each  drop  of  rain,  to  pave  his  cruel  way. 

'T  was  midnight  near ;  all  sound  had  died  away, 
When  there,  at  last,  all  did  agree  to  stay. 
Then  searching  round  for  shelter  from  the  blast, 
A  tree  we  found  with  spreading  branches  vast, 
Around  whose  trunk  all  soon  lay  fast  asleep, 
Save  one,  who  offered  watchman's  post  to  keep. 
But  swarming  ants  soon  added  to  our  woes, 
And,  creeping  o'er  us,  broke  our  short  repose. 
Then,  ere  in  sleep  again  our  cares  were  drowned, 
From  o'er  the  lake  a  cannon's  booming  sound, 
In  volume  clear,  was  wafted  on  the  breeze, 
And  echoed  loud  by  giant  forest  trees. 
This,  on  our  minds  the  quick  impression  made, 
That  Walker's  band  had  come  to  give  us  aid. 
But  all  was  hushed  in  deep  repose  again, 
And  on  we  slept,  till  darkness  closed  his  reign. 
Then  rising,  all,  were  quite  surprised  to  see 
Two  passengers  descending  from  a  tree, 


76 

Within  whose  top  they'd  spent  a  weary  night, 
Nor  dared  to  leave,  from  sheer  excess  of  fright. 
Yet,  one  was  armed,  and  now  with  valor  true, 
A  small  revolver  from  his  pocket,  drew. 

JT  was  soon  resolved  to  send  a  party  out, 
To  bring  report  if  Serviles  were  about. 
To  reconnoitre  with  a  watchful  eye, 
To  learn  their  force,  and  every  movement  spy. 
Three  of  the  band  were  chosen  for  the  scout, 
And,  on  the  venture,  quickly  we  set  out ; 
First  marking  well  our  comrade's  lurking  place, 
That,  easily,  our  steps  we  might  retrace. 
One  comrade  was  a  New  York  doctor,  old, 
Who,  long  before,  had  left  his  craft  for  gold. 
Many  a  year  of  wand'ring  he  had  passed, 
'T  was  thus  his  story  ran,  till  now,  at  last, 
As  age  came  on,  too  old  to  wander  more, 
With  wisdom  gained,  he  sought  his  native  shore. 
The  other  was  a  man  of  stalwart  frame, 
Pike-County  boy,  of  California  fame, 

We  travelled  on,  with  caution  but  with  speed, 
The  doctor  claiming,  as  his  right,  the  lead. 
Leaving  the  paths  a  denser  way  to  take, 
We  soon  espied,  with  joy,  the  placid  lake ; 
But,  sound  of  native  voices  quickly  heard, 
And,  lying  low,  spoke  not  a  whispered  word ; 
When  soon  appeared  a  company,  which,  lo ! 
Though  native,  all,  was  not  a  savage  foe. 
A  band  of  women,  they,  with  downcast  look, 
Who,  for  their  lives,  thus  pleasant  homes  forsook. 
Deep  in  the  wood,  a  drear  abode  they  sought, 
A  houseless  home,  with  death  and  danger  fraught. 


77 


Their  cruel  kindred  no  distinction  made, 
Between  their  foes,  and  such  as  gave  them  aid. 
Sons,  husbands,  fathers,  brothers,  had  espoused 
The  hostile  cause,  by  which  had  been  aroused 
That  deadly  hate  which  none  but  Spaniards  feel, 
And  which  had  pledged  the  oath  that  death  must  seal. 
When  told  our  mission,  where  we  thought  to  go, 
Their  heads  they  shook,  and  sorrowful,  said  "  No  ! " 
"Your  lives,"  said  they,  "must  pay  the  forfeit  dear, 
Should,  on  your  way,  a  Servile  band  appear." 
But,  marching  on,  all  soon  drew  near  the  lake, 
Along  whose  shore,  a  course  we  thought  to  take. 
A  point  of  land,  dense  wooded,  lay  between, 
Which,  from  our  view  the  village  served  to  screen. 
But,  off  the  town,  upon  the  tranquil  bay, 
The  Transit  boat  San  Carlos,  quiet  lay. 
Then  knew  we  well,  the  cannon  that  had  woke 
From  sleep,  the  midnight  air,  her  coming  spoke. 
But  whence  she  came,  and  what  her  motives  were, 
We  nothing  knew,  and  little  could  infer. 
Yet,  this  was  known :  upon  the  previous  day, 
Ere  noontide  came,  she'd  swiftly  sped  away. 
No  object  moved  upon  her  tranquil  deck ; 
All,  silent  seemed,  deserted  as  a  wreck. 
"  Yet,"  thought  we  now,  "  assistance  may  be  near, 
While  we  like  reptiles,  crouch,  and  creep  in  fear." 
Defenceless,  true,  and  wishing  were  to  trifle, 
As  wishes,  all,  could  not  produce  one  rifle. 

The  clouds  of  night  had  with  her  passed  away, 
And  brightly  smiled  the  rising  orb  of  day. 
And  gently  waved  upon  the  morning  breeze, 
The  rain-clad  foliage  of  the  trees. 


78 

The  lake  we  left,  and  tracked  the  forest  through, 

The  road  to  seek,  and  gain  a  fairer  view. 

And  from  a  point  upon  the  Transit  way, 

We  soon  beheld  the  village,  and  the  bay. 

But,  naught  to  fear  was  there,  our  eyes  to  greet  ; 

No  Servile  soldiers  marched  the  quiet  street. 

All  sound  was  hushed ;  but,  measuredly,  and  slow 

Were  human  beings,  moving  to  and  fro, 

Yet,  friends,  or  foes,  our  eyes  could  not  discern, 

And  the  doctor  said,  "Tis  wise  to  return." 

So,  when  was  moved  a  venture  into  town, 

He  sagely  looked,  and  answered  with  a  frown : 

"  Let  age's  counsel  be  the  guide  of  youth, 

In  times  of  danger  as  in  ways  of  truth. 

Imprudent  rashness,  wisdom  does  abhor. 

'  There's  art  in  council,  policy  in  war.'  " 

Our  feet  we  turned,  a  pathless  way  to  trace, 

When  prompted  Thought,  perhaps  with  ill-born  grace 

"  The  old  man's  prudence  speaks  his  inward  fears, 

And  not  the  gain  of  '  multitude  of  years.' " 

His  maxims  wise,  with  such  discernment  fraught, 

Were  learned  of  fear,  and  not  by  wisdom  taught. 

Now  to  the  ambush  where  our  comrades  lay, 

Direct  we  thought  to  go,  but  lost  the  way  ; 

And  long  there  sought  amid  the  forest  wide, 

With  naught  that  served  our  wayward  feet  to  guide, 

Till  when,  at  last,  we  chanced  to  wander  back 

Upon  the  road,  and  took  our  morning  track. 

Then  quick  retraced,  the  journey  of  the  morn, 

We  joined  our  comrades,  who,  of  hope  forlorn, 

Despairing,  quite,  our  safe  return  to  see, 

Loud  welcomed  us  with  more  than  childish  glee. 


79 

Like  famished  wolves  they  ate  in  greedy  haste, 
The  food  we  brought,  and  there  before  them  placed. 
'T  was  wheaten  cake,  and  bread  of  maize,  or  corn, 
Of  native  women  purchased  in  the  morn. 

Our  counsel-board  was  ruled  by  caution's  voice, 

To  enter  town  was  not  our  comrades'  choice. 

But  soon,  in  mass,  returning  to  the  lake, 

Our  scouting  band  a  new  excursion  make. 

Though  wearily,  in  hopeful  spirit  strong, 

We  cautious  moved,  the  water's  edge  along, 

And  on  the  shore,  in  distance,  soon  espied, 

Three  Spanish  girls,  who,  walking  side  by  side, 

With  hasting  step,  seemed  eagerly  intent, 

On  purpose  high,  on  some  grave  mission  bent. 

Though  first  unseen,  our  party  soon  they  spied, 

And,  running  toward  us,  eagerly  they  cried, 

"No  Chamorro  !   No  Walker  !    No  combat ! 

"No  pistol,  gun  !    No  bang  !    No  mas  combat!  " 

With  noble  features,  lit  by  sparkling  eyes, 

Whose  beaming  spoke  kind  hearts  to  sympathize, 

And  faces,  all,  with  glad  excitement  flushed, 

Their  words,  as  from  a  fount,  in  torrent  gushed. 

The  Servile  band  had  left  at  break  of  day. 

Three  hundred  men,  weighed  down  with  spoil,  and  prey 

Of  passengers,  close  held  the  previous  night, 

As  prisoners  within  the  building's  height, 

None  suffered  harm  who  scathless  there  remained, 

When,  from  the  party  my  escape  was  gained ; 

For,  to  the  band  the  Transit's  agent  spoke, 

Their  cause  to  plead,  and  mercy  to  invoke. 

The  party's  chief,  a  Frenchman  chanced  to  be, 

Who  soon,  humanely,  set  the  captives  free. 


80 


To  seek  the  town,  we  left  without  delay, 
Our  fair  companions,  pilots  of  the  way. 
Six  men  had  died ;  four  in  the  room  below, 
And  two  outside  who'd  thought  to  brave  the  foe. 
Fifteen  were  wounded,  groaning  in  their  woe 
Some  slightly  harmed,  others  by  mortal  blow ; 
And  though  appeared  no  more  who  suffered  wound, 
One  hundred  and  fifty  could  not  be  found. 

Grenada  city,  anxious  now  to  see, 

A  plan  was  formed,  though  all  did  not  agree, 

San  Carlos  boat,  to  take,  without  delay, 

And  seek  that  town,  full  eighty  miles  away. 

There  Walker  was,  and  there,  "  forsooth,"  thought  we, 

"  Our  nation's  legate  we  shall  doubtless  see." 

The  bay  we  left,  and  with  the  eve  drew  near 

An  island,  lone,  where  "  Sister  Mountains  "  rear. 

There  took  in  wood ;  until  the  morning  lay, 

Then  sailed  again,  direct  for  Virgin  Bay. 

Upon  the  pier  was  many  a  hopeful  face, 

Whose  struggling  joy  concealed  affliction's  trace. 

Full  twenty- five  of  missing  ones  we  found, 

Then  sailed  again,  for  old  Grenada  bound. 

Passed  Ometepec  near  close  of  the  day, 

And  in  the  morning,  off  the  city  lay, 

As  sailors  said,  but,  intervening  wood 

Concealed  the  height  on  which  the  city  stood. 

Beside  the  water's  margin,  stood  a  fort, 

Though  much  decayed,  still  used  to  guard  the  port; 

Yet  vainly  used,  for,  distant  left  or  right, 

No  barrier  rose  to  check  a  foeman's  might. 

Upon  the  lake-shore  horsemen  soon  appeared, 

Republicans,  we  hoped,  yet  Serviles,  feared. 


81 


The  stars  and  stripes  waved  o'er  that  ancient  fort? 
Yet,  held  by  Serviles,  well  it  would  comport 
With  native  strategy,  and  impulse  low, 
To  hang  false  colors  out,  to  trap  a  foe. 

The  agent,  Scott,  conductor  on  the  lake, 
Though  hesitating,  soon  agreed  to  take 
An  embassy,  intent  to  ascertain 
If  landing,  now,  were  added  loss  or  gain. 
But,  Liberals,  the  horsemen  proved  to  be, 
And  on  the  boat,  't  was  soon  our  joy  to  see 
Our  nation's  envoy ;   Wheeler  was  his  name, 
And  many  thought  he  played  a  double  game. 
To  us,  his  counsel  was,  to  land  and  stay 
Till  Walker's  arms  should  force  the  Transit  way. 
"  Within  the  bounds  of  old  Grenada's  wall, 
You  're  safe,"  said  he,  "  whatever  may  befall ; 
For  Walker,  now,  is  well  established  there ; 
And  all  expense  our  government  will  bear." 

Around  the  town  was  built  a  massive  wall, 

Impregnable,  with  iron  portals  tall, 

Which  opened  wide  our  party  to  invite, 

Then,  crashing,  closed,  like  giants  in  their  might. 

Narrow  the  streets,  and  by  a  novel  plan, 

Into  a  plaza,  all,  converging,  ran ; 

And  on  this  plaza,  seeming  in  parade, 

Brave  Walker's  force  entire  were  now  arrayed. 

Yet,  soon  we  learned,  more  serious  work  had  theyr 

Than  marching  round,  their  weapons  to  display. 

An  enemy,  hard  by  the  northern  gate, 

One  thousand  strong,  for  blood  insatiate, 

In  hurried  march,  now  threatened  an  assault, 

Which  possibly  might  bring  an  ill  result. 
11 


82 


Each  avenue  was  strongly  fortified, 

While  nimbly  spurring  o'er  from  side  to  side, 

Bold  William  moved,  among  his  fearless  band, 

Quick  speaking  words  of  counsel,  or  command. 

At  medium  height,  the  dauntless  William  stood, 

A  hero,  scarce,  nor  yet  a  Robin  Hood. 

Beneath  a  Panama,  his  piercing  eyes 

Bespoke  a  man,  if  not  a  statesman  wise, 

Of  active  mind,  in  stubborn  purpose  great, 

Whose  spirit  proud,  no  master  knew,  save  fate. 

A  chair  was  standing  on  the  plaza's  side, 

In  which,  e'en  now,  the  bold  Salitzer  died. 

A  prisoner,  with  freedom,  on  parole, 

A  correspondence  with  the  foe  he  'd  stole. 

Compell'd  to  sit  upon  that  chair  of  death, — 

Full  twenty  bullets  stole  away  his  breath. 

As  we  approached,  they  bore  his  sad  remains, 

Leaving  the  chair  smeared  o'er  with  blood  and  brains. 

The  evening  came,  and  as  no  stir  was  made 
In  Servile  camp,  to  sleep  we  soon  essayed. 
But  in  the  night  loud  cannon  roars  were  heard, 
And  those  who  wakened  easily  inferred 
A  night  attack,  with  murd'rous  cannonade, 
And,  yet  defenceless,  all  were  quite  dismayed. 
But,  creeping  out  with  nervous  step,  some  learned 
What  into  joy  their  apprehensions  turned. 
Within  the  night  proposals  had  been  sent, 
Which  quickly  served  a  battle  to  prevent. 
To  yield  their  arms,  the  Serviles  had  agreed, 
And  to  the  rule  of  Liberals  concede, 
If  to  their  faction  wealth  should  be  restored, 
And  former  lines  of  party  be  ignored. 


83 


At  ten  o'clock,  to  lay  their  weapons  down, 
Without  the  walls,  and  quiet  enter  town. 
But,  knowing  well  the  nature  of  their  foe, 
And  doubting,  still,  that  danger  would  not  flow, 
To  be  prepared,  the  Liberals  resolved, 
For  peace  or  war,  till  time  all  doubt  had  solved. 

The  passengers,  by  Wheeler's  counsel  swayed, 

Now  organized  to  volunteer  their  aid, 

In  case  the  knaves  in  treachery  were  fain, 

By  stratagem  the  city's  walls  to  gain 

With  arms  concealed.     But,  to  their  promise  true, 

At  ten  o'clock,  they  to  the  city  drew. 

The  chieftains  met ;  each,  friendly  glances  cast  j 

In  Spanish  tongue,  congratulations  passed. 

On  noble  steeds,  the  Serviles  moved  with  grace, 

And  stood  their  hardy  foemen,  face  to  face. 

But  now  came  news  from  old  San  Carlos  hill, 

Which  caused  us  quick  to  travel  with  a  will. 

The  garrison  who  held  that  lonely  height, 

For  cause  unknown,  had  taken  hasty  flight. 

So  in  one  hour,  passed  through  the  city's  gate, 

Our  party  all,  save  who,  controlled  by  fate, 

In  death's  embrace,  or  fell  disease's  pow'r, 

Lay  helpless,  low,  to  wait  a  dying  hour. 

At  Ometepec,  again  with  night  we  staid. 

And  at  return  of  day,  our  anchor  weighed ; 

Made  Virgin  Bay  long  ere  the  daylight's  wane, 

In  hope  some  news  of  missing  ones  to  gain. 

Nor  vain  the  hope,  for  on  the  lake's  green  shore, 

Of  old  companions,  forty-five,  or  more, 

In  sight  appeared,  who  since  the  bloody  fray, 

Had  ventured  not  their  presence  to  display. 


84 

When  first  in  view  our  well-known  steamer  hove, 
The  wood  they  left,  and  hastened  to  the  cove. 
Then  soon,  upon  the  steamer  stood  unharmed, 
From  woe  relieved,  and  apprehensions  calmed. 

The  town  we  left,  and  found  at  Carlos  hill, 
La  Virgin's  captain,  who,  against  his  will, 
Had  been  detained  since  o'er  the  fortress  wall, 
He  boldly  stepped,  to  speak  our  modest  call. 
Deserted  now,  and  silent  was  the  height, 
No  cannons  frowned,  as  conscious  of  their  might. 
But  dire  disease  soon  trod  a  crimson  path 
Through  human  life,  with  more  than  mortal  wrath. 
Full  seventy  men  we'd  left  at  Virgin  Bay, 
And  twenty  more  the  scourge  soon  stole  away. 

As  day  bequeathed  dominion  to  the  night, 

The  moonlit  air  revealed  Castillo  height, 

Where  landing,  all,  we  passed  the  Rapids'  flow, 

Took  smaller  boats,  and  quickly  on  did  go. 

Our  hopes  at  morn  were  deep  with  danger  fraught, 

In  fog  obscured,  near  San  Juan  del  Norte. 

This  vapor  dense,  though  scattered  by  the  light, 

Still  served  to  hide  Mosquetia's  coast  from  sight. 

"  Star  of  the  West "  in  waiting  here  we  found, 

And  in  her  left,  for  New  York  Harbor  bound. 

Passed  Cuba's  west,  by  Gulf  of  Mexico, 

Then  bearing  northward,  tracked  the  Gulf  Stream's  flow. 

November  third,  we  entered  New  York  Bay, 

And,  safe  at  last,  in  Hudson  River  lay, 

As  all  confessed,  with  fortunes  scanty  doled ; 

Experience  in  greater  store  than  gold. 


OF  THF. 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 

!&" 


